I rinse my mouth out and splash my face. ‘How can any of this be normal?’ I turn to stare at him, feeling separate from my body, like I’m talking through someone else’s mouth.

‘You’ve had a shock,’ he says.

‘That’s an understatement. I just… I don’t believe what you told me.’ My teeth are chattering and I’m shivering all over. ‘First, you say I’m having an affair, then you say I’ve killed my sister – how can I believe anything you’re saying? It all sounds like you’re telling me one outrageous story after another.’ Toby takes off his suit jacket and drapes it over my shoulders. ‘It just can’t be true. I’d know if it was. And anyway, I saw Dina outside the salon. I’ve seen her twice now. How could I have seen her if you’re telling the truth?’

‘It obviously wasn’t her. Come on, let’s go to our room and I’ll explain.’

I let him lead me out of the en suite. Nick and Madeline are exactly where we left them. Madeline’s snoring lightly, but I’m worried about Nick, who’s still crouched on the floor, his head in his hands. It doesn’t seem right to leave him there. Toby doesn’t seem too concerned as we walk past him.

We head along the corridor to our room. I’m dreading going in there. Dreading what else Toby is about to tell me.

He opens the door and switches on the light. We’re in the recently revamped bridal suite – a vast room with lots of character – mullioned windows, wooden beams, an eclectic mix of traditional and contemporary. The same beautiful room we stayed in ten years ago, only now the décor has all changed. We checked in earlier, so our cases are already open, traces of our preparation for the party scattered around the room – make-up, a couple of empty glasses, a few discarded clothes draped over the ottoman at the foot of the bed. On the dining table are an enormous bouquet of flowers, an opened bottle of champagne, an exotic fruit basket and a selection of handmade chocolates – a celebration from another time, before my husband upended my world. Before this churning in my stomach and tightening in my chest. Before this nausea and tingling light-headedness.

I walk past all these redundant signs of celebration towards a pair of leaf-print armchairs arranged either side of a circular table in front of the window. I gingerly settle myself in one of the chairs, pulling Toby’s jacket around me, getting wafts of his spicy cologne. It smells at once familiar and foreign. Outside, the snow is still whirling, the night sky almost as white as the settled snow beneath.

Toby follows me and closes the curtains against the outside world. He sits in the chair opposite and starts talking.