Then I dialed my parents’ number. That’s what you do, isn’t it? Even though you may not be close to them, that’s the right order. His parents, then my parents. Chief mourners. But there was no reply and I remembered that Monday was quiz night at the pub. They would stay until closing time. I depressed the button and sat for a few seconds listening to the dial tone in my ear. The alarm clock on Greg’s side of the bed told me it was thirteen minutes past nine. Hours to go before morning came. What was I supposed to do until then? Should I start calling people, telling them the news in descending order of importance? That was what you did when a baby was born—but was it the same when a husband had died? And who should I tell first? Then it came to me.

I found her home number in Greg’s old address book. The phone rang several times, four, five, six. It was like a terrible game. Answer the phone and you’re still alive. Don’t answer and you’re dead. Or perhaps just out.

“Hello.”

“Oh.” For a moment I couldn’t speak. “Is that Tania?” I asked, although I knew it was.

“Yes. Who’s this?”

“It’s Ellie.”

“Ellie. Hi.”

She waited, probably expecting an invitation. I took a deep breath and said the nonsense words again. “Greg’s dead. In an accident.” I cut into the expressions of horror that came down the line. “I rang you because, well, I thought you might have been with him. In the car.”

“Me? What do you mean?”

“He had a passenger. A woman. And I assumed, you know, that it was someone from the office, so I thought . . .”

“Two of them died?”

“Yes.”

“Christ.”

“Yes.”

“Ellie, how awful. God, I can’t get my head around this. I’m so incredibly . . .”

“Do you know who it could have been, Tania?”

“No.”

“He didn’t leave with anyone?” I asked. “Or go to meet anyone?”

“No. He left about half past five. And I know he’d said earlier he was going to get home in good time for once.”

“He said he was coming straight home?”

“I assumed that. But, Ellie . . .”

“What?”

“It might not mean what you’re thinking.”

“What am I thinking?”

“Nothing. Listen, if there’s anything, anything at all, I can do, you only have to—”

“Thanks,” I said, and put the phone down on her.

What was I thinking? What might it not mean? I didn’t know. I only knew it was cold outside, and that time moved sluggishly on, and there was nothing I could do to make it go faster. I crept downstairs and sat on the sofa in the living room, Greg’s jersey pulled down over my knees. I waited for it to be morning.

Chapter Two