Why would he have told her? Their life was going to carry on unchanged. He would be greeted with a kiss from Verity and drink a glass of wine and compliment whatever pretentious dish she had cooked up, not caring that, somewhere, Zadie’s body was lying in a morgue, waiting to be buried or burned.

Chloe swallowed, pulling herself together.

‘I don’t want to be alone,’ she said in a small voice.

‘Where’s Rav?’ Max said after a slight pause.

‘Australia. You sent him there, remember?’

‘Ah, yes.’ Silence fell between them again and she forced herself to wait for him to break it first. ‘Want to come over?’

She breathed a silent sigh of relief. ‘What about Verity?’

‘I’ll tell her I’ve got to work. She’ll understand. I’ll send a car for half an hour’s time.’

‘Thanks, Max. I really appreciate it. See you soon,’ she made herself say, then hung up, her hands starting to tremble.

15

Then

Chloe was ready too early. She had left plenty of time to get ready, wanting to luxuriate in a bath, take care over her make-up and make the whole thing as much like a country-house weekend in a novel as she could manage. Only, with her legs and underarms already shaved and her hair already clean, her bath didn’t take long. Neither did a bit of foundation, some eyeliner, mascara and lipstick. Plus, she’d only packed one suitable outfit, a pale pink dress – a surprisingly successful Christmas present from her mother. So, with half an hour until the party was supposed to start, she sat on the bed, watching the hands on the clock move, thinking up things to say to her fellow party guests then hating herself for trying so hard. Finally, the spindly black hands pointed at the six and the seven.

The room they had been in earlier was transformed. The fire was low and there were candles everywhere. The rugs had been magicked away and the sofas placed against the walls, leaving a wide, open space. A table groaned with champagne flutes, fizzing in expectation of guests. Chloe flushed when she realized that she was the first person downstairs.

‘I think you may be the only one of Zadie’s friends who has ever been on time,’ came a voice behind her. Chloe turned to see Zadie’s father smiling, in black tie. ‘Drink?’

Chloe nodded. ‘Yes, please.’

Mr Lister handed her a glass and tapped it lightly with his own.

‘Happy New Year,’ she said politely.

‘And to you, my dear. We were so glad that Zadie invited you. She usually ignores anything we suggest, on principle.’

She spluttered a little as his meaning hit her. His words stung, of course. But Chloe tried very hard to let them bounce off her, as if she had always been aware that her invitation came from Mr and Mrs Lister, not Zadie herself.