Even someone as hard-hearted as Allison couldn’t fail to be affected by the sympathy in Portia’s voice. It was a relief after Jo. ‘Yes, and then a friend called around. Well, I say friend, but she isn’t really, just a woman I’ve met a few times. She meant well but I found her visit intrusive. Some people feed off others’ grief and, unfortunately, she is one of those. When she finally left, I felt as if every positive thought had been sucked out of me.’ It wasn’t even close to the truth, but it felt good to be dismissing Jo in this fashion.

‘Sounds like someone you could do without in your life. I hope you won’t be seeing her again.’

Seeing her, living with her, until she could figure out a way to get rid of her. ‘No, I won’t.’ She hadn’t mentioned Jo by name. If Portia happened to meet her, and that might happen, Allison would introduce her as an old friend. Portia would be none the wiser.

Portia pushed back the sleeve of her jacket to expose a thin, ropy-veined wrist and a slim gold watch. ‘I have a taxi booked; it’ll be here in five minutes.’ Dropping her arm, she looked at Allison. ‘A good lunch will make you feel better. I even went to the trouble of cooking myself, something I wouldn’t do for just anyone, you know.’

Allison, aware of her friend’s dislike of cooking, was touched. Impossible now to say she’d prefer to go to a restaurant, that she was still slightly wary of Stuart’s over-familiarity. ‘That’s so kind of you. I hate putting you to so much trouble.’

Portia crossed and sat beside her. ‘I know you say you don’t care about being alone in the world, and you’ve often said you’ve no need for friends, so I was quite pleased you allowed me into your life—’

‘You were rather insistent,’ Allison interrupted her with a smile to show she meant no harm.

‘And I’m here for you now, for however long it takes to get you back on your feet.’

Allison felt fragile, weak, truly the grieving widow she was trying to be. It was quite a nice part to play. Perhaps she should have more friends like Portia. ‘You’re so kind.’

‘Nonsense, it’s what friends are for.’ She gave Allison’s arm a squeeze and got to her feet. ‘Run upstairs and slap a bit of make-up on. I don’t want the taxi driver to think I’m transporting a corpse.’