‘You don’t seem very surprised,’ I add. ‘Or concerned.’

‘Mum already told me,’ he says in a blank voice, turning off the grill. ‘Why didn’t you call me at work?’

‘I didn’t want to worry you. I’m absolutely fine so—’

‘Not the point.’ Toby moves past me, his whole body rigid. He takes a bottle of white wine from the fridge. ‘Zoe, I was shocked when Mum told me about everything that happened. I was really worried about you.’

Not worried enough to call, I think. But I hold my tongue.

‘How do you think it felt having Mum tell me all about your traumatic morning? It was so awkward and upsetting. I could tell she was surprised you hadn’t told me. I’m grateful she didn’t pry – thankfully she’s not like that – but I really want to know why you told her and not me.’

I didn’t anticipate Celia calling him up. I guess I should have, but I was too busy worrying about everything else.

He sighs. ‘Are you okay at least? Were you hurt at all in the accident? And are you absolutely sure it was really Dina?’

‘I’m fine.’ I sound distant, my voice monotone and almost offhand. ‘The car’s not in such good shape. And no, I’m not a hundred per cent that it was Dina, but if it wasn’t her, then it was her double.’

‘And the police didn’t come up with anything after you left?’

‘No. Nothing.’

‘Have I done something wrong, Zoe?’ He frowns. ‘Are you pissed off at me? That’s a stupid question – of course you are. It’s obvious.’

I don’t know how to reply. My guts are twisting at the thought of asking him about Madeline. What if they were having a perfectly innocent meeting and I now accuse him of something awful? Or, even worse, what if it wasn’t perfectly innocent? I’m not prepared for this conversation. My skin feels hot and my mouth is dry as sandpaper.

‘So?’ Toby says, pouring us both a large glass of wine. ‘Are you going to tell me what’s wrong? Or are you going to keep avoiding and ignoring me forever?’

I’m just about to dismiss his concerns, when I stop myself. There’s no point in lying about my worries. I’ve never been very good at hiding my feelings, and these past few days have been no exception. I take my glass of wine and knock back a couple of large gulps.

‘I saw you. Last week.’

‘Saw me?’ Toby looks confused, but there’s a faint flush of red on his neck.