I have barely slept, her face, underwater, hair drifting across wide, staring eyes, floating into my mind every time I try to sleep. I glance to my left, where Rupert lies snoring, oblivious to the bombshell that Sadie dropped last night. Rupert never told me that they had never found Caro’s body. Another lie by omission. I lie unblinking, staring at the ceiling as another thought strikes me. Who’s to say that Caro is even dead?

Chapter Twenty-Four

The image of Caro, broken and bloated, appears to me when I least expect it – every time I close my eyes, as I tackle the mountain of ironing that Anya has left, as I walk around the supermarket, picking up food items and putting them down again, unable to keep my mind from wandering. Rupert must know that something is up, by the number of times I’ve opened my mouth to ask him things, abruptly changing my mind and pressing my lips closed before the words have a chance to tumble out.

I haven’t slept since Sadie told me they never found Caro’s body, and I feel weirdly disconnected, moving through life as if on autopilot. Finally, after a week of sleepless nights, the final straw comes as I stand in the kitchen, holding an envelope with Caro’s name on it. It’s nothing important, a circular from some charity that she must have donated to before she died, her name still on some list somewhere, but as I stand there staring at her name in bold, black font, the phone rings and I shriek, my frayed nerves jangling. Crushing the envelope deep into the bin, I glance at the clock and see that if I’m quick I can probably catch Rupert as he goes on his lunch break. He’s not on site today, working out of the Swindon office instead, his hi-vis and hard hat still tucked into the cupboard under the stairs as I grab my coat.

The air is damp as I wait outside Rupert’s office, the cold mist settling on my chest as I pull my scarf closer around my neck. It feels as though spring will never come, the days still holding the dark gloom of winter. I long for sunshine, the warmth of the sun’s rays on my back, Rupert’s strong fingers rubbing sunscreen into my skin as we lounged on the beach in Barbados. I wonder how many times he did that with Caro, I think, my eyes filling with unexpected tears. I almost miss him, so busy am I rummaging in my coat pocket for a tissue, as Rupert strides past me with his head down, lost in thought.

‘Hey!’ I run after him, my fingers catching on the sleeve of his thin jacket. ‘Rupert.’