We trudged along the country lane then turned over a field, frozen grass crunching under my sensible boots and her impractical wellies. It was so quiet, no sound but our footsteps and the cry of faraway birds. Anything could happen out here, and no one would know.

I broke the silence. ‘Thank you for having me over on Saturday. I hope you got my note.’ I had posted one the next day, as I’d been taught, through the letter box. It had been an interesting dinner in the end. The husband had been nice – almost aggressively so. I could tell he thought of himself as a decent man, the kind who would never cheat or hit a woman, who recycled and swept his path of snow in the winter and gave to charities. I doubted he realised how much he put Suzi down, sneering at her painting and cooking attempts, the housewife role he’d thrown on her. Not for the first time, I tried to feel grateful I’d had another type of man. One who was never jealous, or passive-aggressive, or possessive. Even if he had his flaws in other ways. I would continue to watch Suzi and Nick, and see what I picked up. I had still not decided what to do.

Suzi looked embarrassed. ‘Oh, really, there was no need, but thank you. Nora, I’m so sorry it was . . . That Nick and I had a bit of a barney.’ She laughed without humour, the strain creaking in her voice. ‘I don’t know if you noticed. Silly, really – the stress of entertaining! We’re hardly Nigella and Jamie.’

A barney was one way to describe the vicious sniping I’d seen, the coldness in his eyes when he dropped his hints. About what, I wasn’t entirely sure. Suzi had been unfaithful before they left London, perhaps. Now was my chance. I said, ‘You can talk to me, Suzi. I know we don’t know each other that well. But it’s just us out here. We have to support each other.’

She was wavering. My heart began to race. Go on, Suzi. Tell me your secrets. Although what would I say if she did?