Did she have a choice? ‘Yes, of course, you’ll have to forgive me; my head’s all over the place, as I’m sure you’ll understand.’ She stood back and waved her unwanted visitor inside. Jo, she noticed, was good at taking liberties. She didn’t wait to be directed, heading through the open door and taking a seat on the sofa. Allison’s seat. Right beside her half-drunk glass of wine. Wasn’t it a bit of a giveaway she’d been sitting there?

Did Jo think it was odd Allison should be sitting there boozing only two days after her husband had been killed? She didn’t really care, wasn’t interested in knowing what Jo thought of her behaviour, but she was curious. ‘How did you know?’

Jo smiled as if amused at the question, although it was hard to tell. She was, Allison decided, a great advert for the anti-plastic-surgery brigade.

‘You should know, there are no secrets these days.’

No secrets. Allison felt her own expression becoming set and unmoving as she valiantly tried to fix the correct one in place. The grieving widow persona she would have worn if she’d known this bloody woman was going to be standing on her doorstep.

As if aware of her confusion, Jo reached into her pocket and pulled out her phone.

Allison looked at it, puzzled. Perhaps she had rung Jo, told her the bad news, desperate to get it all over with. Told her and forgotten? Perhaps. In the same way Allison had believed poor Stuart was a monster who’d come onto her when he was merely being kind.

Stress. She’d lost the ability to choose the correct response in social interactions. She needed to be very careful.

‘My news feed.’ Jo waggled the phone.

News feed? Allison looked blankly at her unwanted visitor for a few seconds before shaking her head and moving to the other sofa, sinking onto it with a sigh she hoped was taken as despair and not continued confusion. She rubbed a hand over her face. Only then did it hit her what Jo had meant. It was on the damn internet. Of course it would be. It wasn’t every day someone fell under a Tube train and died.

‘I should have rung you,’ she said, taking her hand away. ‘To be honest, I’m still trying to come to terms with it so I’ve not caught up on all I should be doing.’ Maybe it was her imagination, but Jo’s eyes appeared to linger a touch too long on the wine bottle, the half-empty glass.

‘I’ve not eaten since I heard.’ Allison waved a hand towards the wine. ‘I’ve ordered a takeaway; I was hoping a glass of wine might give me an appetite.’

‘It always does me although I prefer beer myself.’