But the energy coming off him tells me I’m wrong, and now I understand why Lawrie Hudson is chief reporter. His police contact – cultivated over months and years of pints down the pub and rounds of golf – has slipped him the information every major news organization has been chasing down since the Justice Secretary’s balls-up on national radio. This is potentially career-making. For both of us.

‘Even better than that.’ He glances at the clock above the bar and I can tell he’s impatient to leave. ‘We’re going to have ourselves a little road trip to Essex. Pay a visit to the other Carter sister.’ He consults his notepad, a look of triumph on his face. ‘She’s called Catherine Allen now.’

Thank you for replying so quickly. Things are difficult right now. It was a comfort to wake in the night and see your message waiting for me. It feels like we are friends, even though we have never met. I wonder if we will one day?

18

The sky was darkening, and when Catherine breathed in the cold air, it made her chest hurt.

The wood basket was empty again but Edward had gone out without saying goodbye, slamming the front door behind him, so Catherine slithered down the icy path alone to retrieve more logs.

She stood in the front garden, silence filling up her heart and her lungs. Bushes and branches and wooden furniture were obscured by a thick, white covering. The smell of winter was everywhere, sharp and clean. It lent a clarity to her thinking.

Something was wrong with her husband.

A flock of birds spread their wings against the bruised clouds, their silhouettes rending the sky. It made her think of someone taking a knife to her life, tiny nicks here and there until only a gaping hole was left.

She and Edward had exchanged approximately thirty-five words all day, and only by chance. She’d been in the hallway, dusting, when he’d emerged from the study to go to the toilet.

Catherine (friendly): ‘Hello, love. How are you getting on?’

Edward (brusque): ‘Do we have any milk?’

Catherine (taken aback): ‘Loads. I bought some earlier because of the forecast.’

Edward (abrupt): ‘I think we need more. I’ll go and get some in a bit.’

This was not the Edward she knew. Her Edward was warm and engaged, a family man. Full of jokes and laughter and proclamations of love. A planner of adventures, a scaler of challenges, brimming with dynamism and the unbridled joy of being alive. A man filled with empathy and generosity, of not following the crowd, but choosing his own path. A man comfortable in his skin.