‘Something. Anything. I thought I’d go mad otherwise. And, in fact, I did find out something. I found out that Frances’s husband was having an affair with Milena, and that there was another man who was with her the night I’d thought she was with Greg. And then I found out that the menu card with the love note on – it was a forgery.’

‘What?’

‘It wasn’t to Greg at all.’

‘This is all too much to take in. You say this woman – Frances – was murdered.’

I nodded, trying not to let the image of Frances’s open, staring eyes flood through me again. ‘She was.’

‘And are you assuming that this has anything to do with Greg?’

‘I’ve no idea. It must have something to do with Milena. Though she was having an affair too – that’s probably irrelevant. I can’t think straight. Everywhere I look I see these betrayals.’

‘Are you in danger?’

‘Me?’

‘Or me?’ said Gwen.

‘No, I don’t think so, but I’m going to the police. I’ll clear up the confusion.’

‘Who else knows?’

I could feel the flush rising up my neck and covering my face. ‘There’s this guy. He’s called Johnny.’

‘Who is?’

‘Kind of a chef.’

‘And?’

‘He was Milena’s lover – one of many.’

‘How did he find out you weren’t me?’

‘He tracked me down here after he’d heard about Frances. I probably should say that I missed something out. It’s not particularly relevant, but we had a kind of thing. I slept with him. Twice.’

‘Oh.’

‘What does that mean – oh?’

‘All these secrets.’

I sloshed more whisky into her glass and my own. ‘It’s a great relief that you know,’ I said, after a pause.

Gwen opened her mouth to speak, but at that moment there was a loud knocking at the door. My head was swimming as I made my way down the hall and opened it.

Joe stood there, wrapped in his thick coat, a huge grin on his face, which was rosy with the cold.

‘I’ve brought you a rowing-machine,’ he said. ‘I could hardly get it into the car.’

‘Why?’

‘I thought it would be good for you, keep you fit through these winter months. And I didn’t actually go out and buy it, a client gave it to me.’

I didn’t want a rowing-machine. And after our last encounter I didn’t much want to see Joe.

‘And I wanted to say sorry for – you know – what happened. Aren’t you going to invite me in?’

‘Gwen’s here.’

He stepped past me and walked towards the kitchen, calling greetings to Gwen.

‘Hi there, Joe,’ she said.

‘You’ve been drinking,’ he said cheerfully.

‘So would you have been in my position.’

‘What position is that?’ He took off his coat and slung it over the back of a chair.

Gwen might not have been angry, but Joe was. He was furious, shocked and hurt. His blue eyes blazed and his lips turned white. He banged his glass down on the table so that the whisky splashed everywhere and told me I’d been very, very stupid and why the fuck hadn’t I told him what I was doing? Didn’t I understand that he and Alison wanted to look after me? Greg had been like a son to him and I was like a daughter. ‘What the fuck were you up to?’ he said. ‘What the fuck were you playing at?’

‘I don’t know. But I don’t have to explain it to you.’

‘You’re upset that your husband dies so what do you do? Weep and mourn? No. Get your life together? No. Talk things through with friends? No. See a counsellor? No.’

‘I have actually seen a -’

‘You pretend to be your own best friend and dabble in half-baked conspiracy theories – oh, Jesus. It defies belief. And where did it get you? Greg’s still dead. He still died in the car with a woman who liked having affairs with married men. Have you unearthed some deep plot?’

‘No,’ I said.

‘And now somebody’s died. What are you doing about that?’ He put his head into his hands, breathing deeply.

‘I don’t need help. I’m going to the police.’

‘You haven’t been to the police yet?’

‘No.’

‘I can drive you there now.’ Gwen stood up, placing both hands flat on the table to steady herself.

‘For Christ’s sake, you can’t drive anywhere,’ said Joe. ‘Why on earth haven’t you been to the police, Ellie?’

‘I was scared and stunned. I know I should. It’s all so complicated.’

He leaned back in his chair. He seemed so shocked that the fight had gone out of him.

‘I don’t know what it all means,’ I said. ‘Greg and Milena, and then Frances.’

‘Why does it have to mean anything except an unholy mess?’

‘I’m so tired, Joe.’ Having him there being so angry and fatherly made me feel younger and more foolish. Tears came to my eyes. ‘Maybe that’s the reason I haven’t been yet – I’m so very tired of thinking about all of it.’

‘Oh, Ell.’ Joe got up and crouched beside me, taking both my hands in his. ‘Of course you’re tired. I tell you what, leave it for tonight. Go tomorrow. I’ll take you myself, if you want.’

‘Will you?’

‘Yes.’

Then the phone rang again and at first I let the answering-machine take the call, but when I heard Fergus’s voice, I ran to pick it up.

‘Fergus? Has labour started?’

‘It’s nothing like that, Ellie. I’ve just seen some news online. It’s the weirdest thing. You know that woman in the car with Greg? Well, her partner -’

‘Fergus,’ I cut him short, ‘there’s something you should know…’

Later, when I’d finished talking to a stunned and stuttering Fergus, and Joe had gone home, leaving an enormous rowing-machine in the middle of the living room, Gwen said, ‘So why didn’t you feel able to confide in me?’

She was sitting on the sofa, her legs curled up under her, floppily relaxed and moving in a slightly uncoordinated way. Daniel was coming to take her home; she could collect her car the next day, when the whisky had worn off.

I hesitated. ‘I don’t know exactly. I think I didn’t want anyone to tell me that what I was doing was wrong. I knew it was wrong, and stupid, and maybe even a bit unhinged, or a lot unhinged, but I didn’t intend to stop. I’m sorry, though.’

‘And now?’

‘Now I’ve honestly got no idea what I think about a single thing. She was nice, though.’

‘The woman who was killed?’

‘Frances, yes. She came from an entirely different world and I would never have met her in the ordinary run of things – she was rich and stylish and ironic, and had that well-bred, well-groomed English reticence. But in spite of that I liked her. She was good to me. And I don’t understand why she’s dead. And I don’t understand why someone wanted me to think Greg was having an affair with Milena. I don’t understand at all.’

Chapter Twenty-six

I wasn’t sure which police station to go to, but I knew it would be bad either way, and it was. I went to see WPC Darby because I hoped she might be sympathetic to me, knowing me as a grieving widow. When she greeted me, I noticed the wary expression people adopt when they open their door to someone trying to give them a pamphlet about a fringe religion. But she sat me down and gave me some tea. I started to explain why I was there and her expression changed from wariness to puzzlement, then from puzzlement to what looked like alarm. She hushed me and almost rushed out of the room.

She returned five minutes later and asked if I could follow her. She led me through a door and into a room that was bare, except for a table and three orange plastic chairs. She sat me down and stood awkwardly by the door. I told her she didn’t need to stay but she said it was all right. It looked as if she had been told to stay with me and also not to say anything more. So I sat and she stood and we spent ten awful minutes avoiding each other’s eyes until the door opened and a detective came in. I recognized him as Detective Inspector Carter, the one I had talked to before. He didn’t even sit down.