“Good.” She sounded wistful. “I’m glad. We all need friends. Listen, there’s something I need to talk about. Otherwise this feeling I have, of guilt and disgust with myself, will rot away inside me and poison me. I need to confess.”

What could I say? I gave a small nod for her to continue.

“In your relationships,” she asked, “have you always been faithful?”

“Yes,” I said, because it was the truth.

“That must be a nice feeling.” Her voice was so soft I could hardly catch her words. She stared into my eyes for a few seconds, then looked away. While she spoke, she gazed at a spot a few inches to one side of me.

“When I married,” she said, “I made promises, but I didn’t really think about what they meant, not properly. And David and I—Well, you’ve seen us together. It’s not great. It hasn’t been for some time. He was busy, I was busy, we had separate lives. Bit by bit we drifted apart without realizing it. And bit by bit I became lonely—but I didn’t realize that either. It happened too gradually. And one day I knew I was unhappy. My life felt all wrong but I was stuck in it. And then . . .” She stopped and turned her gaze on me briefly. “It’s such a fucking cliché, isn’t it? I met a man. A very special man. He made me feel good about myself. It was as if he recognized me, saw someone precious behind the façade I’d built up.”

She rubbed her eyes wearily. “It was such a mess, though. Not just because I was married—for a bit that hardly bothered me. He’d had a thing with Milena first.”

I managed to make a small sound. My heart felt large and painful.

“Just a fling, really, but you know what Milena was like. She didn’t take it well that he preferred me. That was putting it mildly. She hated me, really hated me. I felt her hatred would literally scorch me when I walked into the room.” Frances shuddered. “And then she died.”

“So this man,” I said, “she knew you were with him?”

“Oh, yes. Milena always knew everything.”

“Was he married as well?” I barely recognized my own voice.

“What do you think, Gwen? Yes, he was married.”

“Who was he?”

Her expression hardened. “That’s not what it’s about,” she said, in a tone almost of distaste. “What does that matter?”

“I didn’t mean . . .”

“It’s over, that’s all that matters.” She gave a laugh that wasn’t really a laugh at all, closer to a sob. “Something happened. I still can’t make sense of it, Gwen. It’s tormenting me. That was why I had to tell someone—otherwise I’ll go mad.”