Anna appeared before her son could quite get away with the new arrival. Her blond hair was clipped up neatly at the back, and she was simply but elegantly dressed in a long cream shirt belted over matching trousers. It looked like she might be on her way out, but Alex was pleased when she didn’t sound at all hurried.

“Are you finished for the day, Al? Can I pour you a quick glass of wine?” She looked with concern at her former husband, for whom she had a lot of time and respect as a person and as a good father to Max. He looked harrowed, like someone who hadn’t had a full night’s sleep for the whole of the last month—which was likely. But whatever demons Alex chased, he did so alone, telling no one what was in his head or his heart. Keeping his own counsel was his habit—and, in her mind, still his worst personal failing.

“That sounds good, Anna, thanks. Today started a lifetime ago.” He took a step toward the kitchen with her. “Dad rang and told me he’d had an unofficial chat with the coroner—although the full inquest won’t be for another couple of months. I’ve been at work since six this morning, and I’ve got to sort out the last of Will’s things in my flat tonight. I keep tripping over them, and some of it ought to go to charity. Plus we got the bike back today from the insurers. Very little wrong with it, but I can’t decide what to do with it now. I guess I’ll get it back down to the country and then think about selling it. Typical of Will, isn’t it, to move in, and never properly move out again. I’ve been completely unsettled with him half in and half out of my life since May.”

She noted that his voice seemed steady, and passed him a glass. “Do you need any help with that? It’s going to be a difficult job.” Her words came with an inflection that was more an inquiry whether Alex wanted to talk, than whether he would accept her offer. Max was still tugging at his father’s arm, not at all willing to let go of him—which Anna understood very well; but she also sensed a possible moment that would be gone in an instant if she couldn’t get their son to give them some space.

“Max, let Daddy have ten minutes to talk to me, then we’ll both come up and see your game.” He was hard to dissuade, until she mentioned that the Sims’ house might burn down—or the husband lose his lift to work—if it wasn’t properly set on pause.