‘So,’ Elsa said, ‘how is Pam doing?’

‘She’s doing well,’ Stephen said. ‘We visited her this week, and she seemed in good spirits.’

‘You . . . both visited her?’ Elsa said.

Mary arrived with bowls of soup. ‘I should have checked: do you have any dietary restrictions, Heather?’ she called, setting a bowl in front of Stephen.

‘No,’ Heather said. ‘None at all.’

Elsa was still looking at Stephen.

‘Yes,’ Stephen said. ‘Heather and I visited her together. Pam and Heather spent quite a bit of time together this past year, when Heather was overseeing the renovations. And she’s been a great support as we moved Pam into the home.’

Michael was making his way around the table with a bottle of wine, filling the glasses. Elsa opened her mouth to say something else, but Mary got in first.

‘Dig in, everyone!’ Mary said. She held out a basket of crusty rolls. ‘And tell us about the house, Stephen. Is it sublime?’

‘Sublime is a good description for it,’ Stephen said thoughtfully. ‘Most mornings I feel like I’ve awoken in a hotel. It was definitely worth the wait.’

‘I remember sitting in the kitchen with Pam years ago,’ Elsa said, ‘while she drew up plans on a serviette. She was so excited.’

‘I saw her serviette plans,’ Heather said. ‘She also had a whole shoebox full of fabric, swatches, paint colours. She was a dream client in that way. She knew her style – warm, textured, ornate. Never met a throw cushion she didn’t like.’

This drew a laugh from the room, even from Elsa.

‘I bet she’d be thrilled that her dream came to fruition, even if she wasn’t able to see it,’ Mary said. ‘Are there throw cushions everywhere?’

Heather hesitated. She assumed Stephen had told them about the change in direction. She glanced at him for guidance, but he had a mouthful of bread.

‘Well, in the end, we decided to go for a different style. More . . . minimalist. Clean lines.’ She took a quick swig of her wine. ‘I mean, it made sense that if Pam wasn’t going to be living there, we should adapt the plans to suit Stephen’s own style. I wanted him to be happy with the results.’

‘And evidently he is,’ Mary said, barely missing a beat.

‘And Pam has no idea, so what does it matter?’ Elsa muttered.

Silence. Stephen fought to swallow his mouthful.

‘It matters,’ Heather said. ‘Of course it matters. Stephen cares enormously for Pam, and so do I.’

‘You care about her?’ Elsa said. David put a hand on her arm, but Elsa shook it off. ‘I’m sorry, but honestly. Pam was your client, and not only did you fail to meet her brief, you took off with her husband!’

‘That’s enough, Elsa,’ Stephen said.

‘Stephen was my client too,’ Heather said. ‘I met his brief.’

‘Enough!’ Stephen said, loudly now.

The room was silent for a few moments. Even Mary couldn’t seem to find anything to say. Heather looked at Stephen, but he seemed to be avoiding her gaze.