Outside, Mrs Jeffers, the woman who has lived in the house next door for forty-five years, stops to chat. It’s the last thing I want.

‘How are you two lovely people?’ she says, cradling her bulky shopping bag to her chest. ‘You must come round for supper soon.’

Diane has lived on her own in that vast house since her husband died nine years ago. She has a daughter, two sons and half a dozen grandchildren who visit from time to time, but she’s lonely. I sometimes have a coffee with her in the mornings. Nick will stop by and change a light bulb or clear the stretch of guttering overhung by one of our trees. In return, she keeps our spare key in case one of us gets locked out and keeps an eye on the house when we’re on holiday. She has two cats who torment Toffee.

‘We will,’ I say, smiling gaily and feeling utterly desperate. ‘Perhaps next week.’ I put on my helmet and swing my leg over the motorbike. I zip around on my beloved red Vespa. It saves a lot of hassle.

Home feels echoey and strange when I get back. I call out for Nick and my voice sounds tentative, almost embarrassed. I stand at the bottom of the stairs, listening, my blood rushing. But there is no sign of him. I wander into the kitchen and drop my bag on the side, and see his jumper folded over the back of the sofa, where it’s been since Saturday afternoon. I have nothing, not a clue as to why this has happened. I sit down, put my phone in front of me and push my fingers through my hair, leaning into my hands. All I have is an app, a friend, a coincidence. I tap In-Step and it lights up my screen. I tap Group. Anna has done fifteen hundred odd, I’ve done two thousand – well under my target, but steps are not exactly a priority right now; Nick is at zero. He isn’t moving, or he has switched off his phone. I call him, and my call is redirected to voicemail, where I leave another message.

‘Nick, please tell me what’s going on. I’m freaking out here.’

TAISIE

July 2000

TAISIE SHOVED HER HANDS INTO HER POCKETS AND her shoulders drooped. How was she going to get through this? She had never fallen out with Nick before, and it made her feel lonely. If he had apologized she would have forgiven him, but he was so arrogant. Pansy and Freya were great, but once she was back in London she would be at a loose end. Rosa wouldn’t be back from California for another week – not that she would call her anyway, after what she had done – and she wouldn’t be able to hang out with Nick either. It was all spoilt between them now. He had spoilt it.