Jess hesitates. ‘I’m not supposed to drink in the week and I’m driving.’

Margot wonders why Jess can’t drink in the week. Has she been forbidden to? Keith used to try to boss her about, telling her what she could and couldn’t do. Is that what’s happening with Jess? She can’t imagine it. It’s obviously a self-imposed rule. ‘Just one won’t hurt,’ she says, and Jess takes it, setting it down next to her bowl.

‘Was it normal for Heather and Adam to argue to such an extent that he’d walk out?’ she asks, surprising Margot.

‘I don’t know. I didn’t think so. But they live in the coach house, near the caravan site, so I wouldn’t always know.’

Jess frowns. ‘And you still don’t know what they argued about?’

‘I’ve never asked.’ She probably should, but Adam is so private and she’s worried about upsetting him. He has so much to deal with right now. He must feel guilty about leaving Heather alone like that, especially if she was feeling depressed and suicidal. ‘I don’t want to believe Heather would be capable of such a thing. She’s not trigger happy. She’s not particularly into guns. She’s never been interested in coming clay-pigeon shooting with me. But that neighbour of the Wilsons – he saw her. He saw her leaving the house with a gun. If it wasn’t Heather, how do you explain that?’

Jess pushes her fringe out of her face, her expression troubled.

‘And I know,’ Margot continues, desperate to get it all off her chest, now that someone is here to listen, ‘that Heather shot my husband. And I keep telling myself that it was an accident. But what if it wasn’t?’ It must be the wine talking. She’s drinking it too quickly and it’s going to her head. All her dark fears are spewing out of her mouth and she can’t control them. ‘He wasn’t always a good husband. Or father. He could be cruel.’

Jess raises her eyebrows. ‘Heather never said.’