Forty minutes later I’m boarding the train, putting my luggage in the rack and scanning the seat numbers for thirty-four. I pull out my phone, put in my earbuds and silently pray nobody sits next to me. I scroll through to a podcast and close my eyes until the narrator is running through things I don’t want to hear about right now, and so I pull out my earphones and close my eyes until the train is moving.

It’s a beep that has my eyes flick open. A text message. From Camilla. A photograph of the spare room she usually Airbnbs out, all made up with throw pillows and a Harrods bear with a green ribbon around its neck we bought together a few years back on a whim.

On your way?

I type back: Yes, see you soon xxx

The seat beside me remains empty, so I put my handbag on the chair and scroll through Instagram. But every post reminds me of something I don’t want to remember: a jewellery advert reminds me of that gold necklace, evil-eye bracelet, silver bangle and red kabbalah string; of all the corpses still unfound. A shot of a sunset reminds me of the apricot sky behind the Seine in Sabine’s video. A positive quote reminds me of Thomas’s bookshelf. A shot of a gallery reminds me of that painting on his wall and a shot of a Parisian café reminds me of all the dreams I’m leaving behind.

So instead I go to my emails.

There’s one at the top from Hyacinth.

An article is attached. I click on it and glance through the text, the indictments against Agnès Bisset, minus of course anything implicating her in Sabine’s death. It’s entitled: ‘The Paris Affair’.

Her message reads: It’ll be live from 2 pm.

I got my scoop after all. So why don’t I care anymore?

My phone is right there in my hands and I know I shouldn’t, but I just can’t help myself. I pull up Safari and type in Thomas Jamison. I’m met with a long list of articles and his face, his eyes with those long lashes that are pale at the tips, staring back at me. My breath catches in my throat as I click on the first one. It was published yesterday.

Thomas Henry Jamison, 38, who died two days ago in a fire after allegedly abducting a woman, Harper Brown, has been implicated in the death of Sabine Roux after her DNA was found in his car and number plate recognition software placed him at le Bois de Boulogne on the night of 15 October. Investigation into the death of Matilde Beaumont continues… colleagues and neighbours describe Mr Jamison as a nice, helpful, caring man.