‘Well, anything happened recently to make her on edge? Or something that could have triggered the letter writing?’

‘Nothing. Our lives are as they always are: work, dinner, bed.’

Carla nodded. ‘OK.’ But she had a growing sense of unease. Gerry seemed defensive, but she couldn’t see why. Unless she wasn’t asking the questions he expected her to ask. But then what were the ones he wanted?

‘And the death the writer refers to, Eve’s grief, do you know what that might be?’

He flinched.

‘Gerry?’

He sighed and put his hands on his thighs. ‘It’s partly why Eve didn’t want the police involved. It’s a very private and upsetting thing.’

She waited for him to continue, but when he didn’t she said, ‘It may help me to know? It may help us find out who is writing these letters.’

‘I doubt it.’ He took hold of the half-empty coffee cup and moved it a little to the right, then tapped his finger on the rim. ‘We had a baby. It died.’

‘Oh Gerry, I’m so sorry.’

He shrugged, eyes on the table. ‘Eve miscarried. Four times.’

‘My God, Gerry.’ She felt winded. What words could she muster that would do justice to a pain like that?

‘We stopped trying after the last one. Couldn’t stand the hurt.’

‘I’m sorry.’ The words felt so insignificant it was almost as if she hadn’t said them at all.

‘It’s OK. It was a long time ago and we’ve both made peace with it. Well, I think I have; Eve sometimes still struggles. It doesn’t help, of course, that we haven’t told people. She has no one to confide in and I think she feels she’s exhausted the subject with me. Which she hasn’t. I’ll talk about it with her whenever she wants,’ he added. ‘But as time passed she just buried it away in her heart and sealed it up.’

Carla felt a wave of guilt: guilt for never imagining Eve as a mother; guilt she could probably have a baby but was actively trying not to; guilt she was lying to Baz about it; and guilt she was making Gerry talk about it now.

‘Hey.’ He reached across the table and touched her hand. ‘You look like you’re going to cry. It’s OK, really. I’m fine. We are both fine.’

She nodded. Then thought of something. ‘You said you hadn’t told anyone.’

‘Yeah, it felt too raw, and by the time it didn’t – if that’s possible – the opportunity had passed.’

‘But then how does the letter writer know?’

Gerry frowned. ‘What?’

‘Well, they say they know about Eve’s grief, which suggests they know about the babies. Could she have told anyone?’

He considered this for a moment. ‘I don’t see who she would have told that wouldn’t have also mentioned it to me.’