‘My dear,’ he said, stepping into the hall, both hands extended. Taking hers, he held her at arm’s length for so long that Allison wondered if she’d failed dismally in her portrayal of a grieving widow. ‘My dear, you look wretched.’

Since this was exactly the look she was aiming for, she gave a mental air-punch before making her lower lip quiver like a curious rabbit. ‘It’s so awfully, awfully hard.’ The solicitor, thankfully, wasn’t the hugging type; instead, he squeezed the hands with enough vigour to have Allison wince. ‘Come into the living room,’ she said, indicating the room behind with a jerk of her head. ‘I’ll make some coffee, or would you prefer tea?’

With a final press of her hands, he released her. ‘Tea would be lovely, thank you.’

She saw him glance around the room, the imperceptible nod of satisfaction he gave to see the curtains drawn, the mirror covered.

It was, however, far too gloomy to sit in. ‘Rather than switching on the light, I’ll open the curtains.’ She threw him a sad smile. ‘Just while you’re here, of course.’ She crossed to the window, pulled the heavy drapes and straightened the net curtains. ‘Please, have a seat and I’ll get that tea.’

A teabag bunged into a mug wasn’t going to be sufficient. While the kettle boiled, she rummaged in a cupboard for the rarely used teapot and teacups and set them on a tray. It took longer to find a jug, the Tetra Pak looking completely out of place… with the minutes ticking by, and a sheen of perspiration on her face, she gave up on the search for a sugar bowl.

Carrying the tray in her two hands, she opened the door to the living room with a tap of her hip. ‘Sorry for taking so long,’ she said, lowering the tray to the coffee table. ‘I hope you don’t take sugar; we’re completely out.’ She threw the solicitor a smile, allowing it to waver and die as she sank onto the sofa.

‘You’re being so brave.’

He didn’t know the half of it, she thought, busying herself with the palaver of pouring tea, adding milk when he nodded. It had been brave to make the decision she’d made, to do what she’d done. Some may have a different word, probably several of them: manipulative, self-obsessed, monstrous. That last was most appropriate.

The clink of china on china as she and the solicitor drank their tea was a hypnotic, relaxing sound. Everything was going to be okay. She almost smiled, hiding it quickly as the solicitor looked up from his cup. She reached for the pot and lifted it. ‘Another cup?’

‘No, thank you, that was an elegant sufficiency.’

She topped her own, barely touched cup with a dribble.