‘Em,’ Rupert turns, whisky in hand. ‘Oh God, Em, don’t cry.’ He reaches for me now, and I have to force myself not to pull away. ‘Look, it’s a lovely thought. I do love swimming, you’re right, and I do miss it, but not enough to shell out thirty grand on a swanky swimming pool, OK?’

I nod my head and smile, swiping at the damp tracks on my face, before I make a show of starting dinner. All my hard work today in the garden, and still it seems I can’t get things right.

The shrill ring of the telephone makes me jump, as I sit at the kitchen table paying bills online. I have taken over this household duty from Rupert, and I still get a tiny shiver down my spine at the figures that sit at the top of the banking page, still not quite believing they are real. Rupert could afford to put the pool in, I think, if I scaled it down a little. Part of me wonders if he feels strange knowing that it would be Caro’s money he would be spending. But Caro isn’t here anymore. Anya pokes her head around the doorframe, a bottle of bleach in one hand.

‘I get it?’ she asks, a frown distorting her features. She is always frowning, a permanent look of disapproval.

‘No,’ I breathe out, ‘I’ll get it.’ I snatch up the phone and jab at the answer button. ‘Hello?’

Nothing. My heart stutters in my chest. Dead air again.

‘Hello? Hello? Listen, if you’re not going to say anything then just fuck right off, OK?’ Apprehension makes my words weaker than I had hoped for but calling in the daytime is new. I’ve come to expect it on the cold, lonely evenings when Rupert is working late, but not now, when the sun is streaming in through the orangery windows, and I am feeling if not safe, then less threatened at least. Anya’s face appears back in the kitchen doorway, her dark eyes wide.

‘Bitch.’ I hear the faintest hiss, the word floating down the line and I click the off button. Less satisfying than slamming down the receiver, but at least I cut whoever it is off.

‘Is wrong number?’ Anya asks.

‘Yes,’ I say shortly, slamming the lid of the laptop. ‘I have to go out now.’ Another day, another lunch, this time at Amanda’s. ‘If the phone rings, just… don’t bother to answer it, OK?’