I had to cut her some slack. Never mind the pregnancy: the biggest surprise since I’d come here was to realise I felt sorry for Suzi. There I was, widowed at forty-two, childless and likely to stay that way, broke and living in a tiny cottage. There she was, married, pregnant, obviously solvent, their cottage snug, tastefully extended. She still had the hope of a career in the arts, whereas I’d given mine up years ago. But all the same I pitied her. She was so afraid, so sad. On our walk, stepping along in the silent woods in companionable silence, I found myself wondering for a crazy second if she and I might actually become friends. But how could that be? I had to remember why I’d come here in the first place.

As it turned out there was no need to worry, because the moment at the old house was soon eclipsed by the dog going missing. We had looked and looked around the grounds, listening out for rustles in the bracken or telltale barking, but the animal seemed to have vanished off the face of the Earth – no surprise, since Suzi had still taken no steps towards training him. We looked for hours, a deep chill seeping into my bones. We searched on opposite sides of the road, calling into the trees, tramping as far in on the verges as we could. I could hear Suzi’s voice in the cold air, rising up, a note of panic. ‘Poppet. Poppet!’ What a stupid name for a dog. I knew she would never find him like this but I had to at least make an effort, calling his name myself, kicking at the odd bush or hedgerow. Then I heard a scream go up – Suzi.

It took me a while to find where she was. In the gloom of the winter afternoon, the overgrown woods of the old estate encroaching on either side, it would be easy to get lost. I followed the sound of her voice and found her slipped down into a narrow, deep ditch beside the road, clutching her ankle. ‘Nora! Thank God. I fell over. These stupid wellies. Can you help me?’

For a moment, I hesitated. Suzi was helpless. Her pregnancy, plus the slipperiness of the muddy ground, meant she’d struggle to get up. It was possible no one would find her for a while out here. Even a rare passing car wouldn’t hear her out the window. When Nick came home he’d look, but would he think to go this way?

‘Nora!’ A note of panic again. ‘What are you . . .’