‘You’re too kind.’ The words – the lie – were uttered through gritted teeth. Allison sipped on her wine. She’d looked forward to having a few glasses with the dinner that was rapidly cooling in the kitchen, but it didn’t look as if Jo was leaving anytime soon. ‘I hope they didn’t give our address in that piece you saw.’

Jo wiped a hand over her mouth. ‘No, of course not.’

Short of asking her outright how she knew it, Allison was stuck. She wasn’t usually slow at being blunt but there was something about Jo, something unsettling, that made her reluctant to ask any questions. It didn’t really matter, did it? Did it?

‘Was that your takeaway?’

Allison looked blankly at her. ‘What?’

Jo pointed towards the door with the neck of the bottle. ‘The doorbell. I heard you answer. You shouldn’t let it go cold.’ She took another pull from the bottle. ‘I’ll keep you company while you eat. Might help your appetite.’

Allison’s fingers tightened around the bowl of her wine glass. Afraid she’d crush it, she put it down. ‘I’ve ordered Italian. I was hoping it would appeal.’ She raised a hand to her forehead. ‘I’ve hardly slept since… you know… but I’m trying to stay strong, Peter would have wanted me to, so I need to try to eat. They always send far too much; would you like to have some?’ In fact, her appetite had gone completely and the thought of eating with this bloody odd woman staring at her made her feel ill. If she thought the answer would be no, that her unwanted guest would take the hint and go, she was destined to be disappointed.

‘That would be very nice, thank you.’ Jo lifted her bottle. ‘I always think beer goes well with Italian food.’

Was she expecting a pepperoni pizza, perhaps? This was gourmet food from an upmarket Italian restaurant. Allison felt her mouth twist in a sneer and covered her face with her hands until she regained control. ‘Sorry.’ She dragged her hands down her face. ‘It keeps hitting me.’

‘You’ll be better after something to eat.’ Jo got to her feet. With the beer in one hand, she picked up the wine bottle with the other. ‘Shall we go through before it gets cold?’

Allison was caught off-guard by this move and, once again, was lost for words. Perhaps it was an accepted part of the bereavement process she’d not heard about, this insistence for people to take over her life. Her portrayal of a devastated widow was obviously spot on. She knew she was a good actress; after all, she’d been playing a part for most of her life, and her loyal, loving wife had been an Oscar-worthy performance, but portraying the recently bereaved was harder than she’d expected. Or perhaps merely more tiring.