I squinted out of the back door. The boys were running about in their pyjamas and did not notice me. I listened to my phone messages. Poppy’s breathy voice filled the kitchen. Could I ring her office? She’d be there until late. Next up was Sue Frost. Had I decided about bereavement counselling? I ran myself a glass of water and drank it. If being married invaded one’s privacy, it was even more the case being a widow. Everyone wanted to help themselves to a bit of my predicament. Mrs Jenkins was constantly advising me on how to handle the twins. Paige and Gisela offered contradictory advice. Mrs Austen had asked me point-blank if I had enough money to live on. Kate Winsom had insisted that I sign up for a course of colonic irrigation. ‘It’s so cleansing. At a time like this you can’t afford to house toxins.’ Others demanded to know how I was managing. Without waiting for an answer, they proceeded to tell me how they would manage. I had begun to feel like a large fish in an aquarium where visitors are parked below the water level so that they can enjoy uninterrupted views of the exposed underbellies. No one ever considered a shark’s right to privacy. They should.

Obediently I rang Poppy. ‘It’s Minty.’ Since the funeral, we had met only twice, each time with the twins, and our conversations had remained within the bounds of politeness.

‘Thanks for ringing,’ she said, more hesitant than usual. In the background I could hear the subdued whine of a printer. ‘The thing is, Minty, I wanted to ask you how things were progressing with Dad’s will.’

Was it odd that Poppy hadn’t talked to Theo? ‘We…’ I emphasized it ‘… will have to be patient a little longer. Theo is still waiting for probate to be granted.’

She hesitated. ‘So, we’re no closer to sharing out the money?’

‘Theo’s doing his best.’

‘It takes such a long time.’ Poppy’s urgent cry echoed down the phone. ‘Can’t we hurry it up?’

‘Is there some problem about the money? Theo explained it quite carefully. Have you a complaint?’

‘No, no, nothing like,’ she countered hastily. ‘I was just wondering, that’s all. Theo did say that Sam and I were due our share, and I could… do with my mine. There are one or two things that I must… I would like to use it for.’

‘Can’t Richard tide you over?’

‘No.’ Her voice veered upwards. ‘I mean, yes. I will ask Richard. He’s always so generous. But I don’t rely on my husband.’ She gave a little laugh. Well, as little as possible. Did I tell you he’s been promoted again? So have I, in a modest way.’ The printer choked, interrupting her. ‘Oh, God, I must go. I’m trying to print out a delivery note to go with a huge order for Christmas candles from Liberty’s and the printer keeps jamming. Will you let me know as soon as possible?’

Through the open door, I saw Felix stick out his leg and Lucas go sprawling over it. I switched my gaze back to the kitchen. If Nathan was sitting at the table, he’d say, ‘She’s my daughter, and I must help.’

I took a deep breath. ‘I’m worried you’re in trouble, Poppy. Would you like to talk things over some time?’

‘No!’ Her panicky voice convinced me that I was right. ‘It’s none of your business.’

‘Are you sure?’

Poppy turned hostile. ‘I’m absolutely sure, thank you, Minty. Could we leave it now? Please?’

‘I’ll ask Theo to get in touch with you.’

I terminated the call and I went to say hello to the twins, who occupied me for the next couple of hours. But I was troubled by my conversation with Poppy.

Later, when I came downstairs, my eye lit on a vase of dying irises in the hall. I carried them into the kitchen and emptied out the water, which smelt disgusting. I dropped one of the flowers on to the floor and its pulpy stem left a stain on the tiles. I knelt down and scrubbed at it with a tissue, which disintegrated. I got to my feet to fetch the dustpan, and pain flickered in my knees. That made me smile. Nathan had married me because he thought I would make him young again. But instead I had grown older.

I scraped the rubbish into the bin and the lid banged shut.

A deep, unhealed loss held me in its tight grip.

I was woken by the sound of starlings on the stairs. I glanced at the clock – 5.30 a.m. Groaning, I got out of bed. ‘Just what are you two doing?’ I demanded. The twins were dressed and kitted up with their school rucksacks. ‘And what are you carrying?’

‘It’s our food for the journey,’ Felix explained.

‘Turn round.’ Felix did so, and I unzipped the rucksack. Inside I found an apple, a couple of chocolate biscuits and Blanky. The last was significant. Felix would never leave the house without Blanky. ‘Did you pinch these from the tin?’

‘It’s for our journey,’ Lucas repeated.

‘What journey?’

Felix tugged at my hand. ‘A special journey, Mummy’

I sat down on the top stair. ‘You were running away without telling me. I wouldn’t have liked that, you know.’

This worried Felix. ‘We’re going to find Daddy,’ he said.

To hide the rush of hot tears, I dropped my head into my hands. There were further starling rustles and a twin inserted himself at either side of me. I put out my arms and drew them close. What am I going to do with you?’ They knew the question was rhetorical, and neither answered. ‘I’ve told you both about Daddy. He’s gone to another place where he will be perfectly at peace. But he can’t ever come back.’

‘Oh, yes he will,’ said Lucas. ‘When we dig him up.’

I ached for their misery. My sadness was now complete, and I searched desolately for the best words, the right thing to do. ‘Well,’ I said finally, ‘why don’t we think about it in bed?’

Fifteen minutes later, they were asleep, but not before ‘I had extracted a promise from them that they would never, ever leave the house without telling me or Eve. I lay awake, borne aloft on a layer of biscuit crumbs – they had insisted in eating their provisions.

‘Minty!’ a voice called behind me, as I was dashing out of number seven on the way to work.

It was Martin. He was in his office suit, with a briefcase and a matching overnight bag in the softest leather, the kind top executives favour. ‘I was hoping to catch you. I’m sorry I haven’t been around, but I’ve been so busy. Paige tells me you’re coping… but…’ He placed a finger under my chin and tilted it up. ‘Bit pale, thinner, but that’s to be expected.’

I licked my dry lips. I had almost forgotten how to respond to human beings, let alone friends.

‘I’m afraid I need to talk to you,’ he said.

That shook me out of my torpor. ‘Trouble?’

‘Trouble,’ he conceded. ‘Have you got time?’

I glanced at my watch. ‘I’m due at a meeting in an hour.’ That would take up the morning. Lunchtime would be devoted to buying new school uniform for the twins. An afternoon meeting was scheduled with Ed Golightly at the BBC and everyone was crossing fingers for the green light. With luck and a following wind, I would make it home for the twins’ bath. ‘I have time.’

‘Coffee, then?’ Martin jerked a finger at the café on the corner.

We sat at a too-small table that lurched alarmingly if one or other of us leant on it. Martin blew into the cappuccino, and the resulting ruffle on the froth mirrored his frown. He looked baffled and angry. A dot of shaving cream nesting behind his left ear skewed his conformist, businesslike appearance.

‘Martin, this looks bad.’

‘It is.’ He picked up his cup and put it down again. ‘Paige and I have split up. Or, rather, she told me to go’

‘What? She hasn’t said anything to me.’

Naturally that was neither here nor there to Martin. He raised his eyes and looked directly into mine. ‘You know the expression “a blow in the solar plexus”? It doesn’t describe the half of it.’

A picture of Nathan sitting in the blue chair, dead, swam into view. ‘I have some idea.’

‘Yes, of course you do. I was forgetting.’ He frowned, and the hollows under his eyes deepened alarmingly. This was a man who was hoping to be mistaken, who was grappling with a mystery he suspected he had no hope of solving.

‘How long had it been brewing?’

He shrugged and took refuge in flippancy. ‘Who knows what goes on in my wife’s mind?’

I searched for a clue to Paige’s decision. Had Martin beaten her up? Demanded that she become a sex slave? I tried the obvious line. ‘You can go a bit mad after having a baby. I did. You feel so unsettled and unsure.’

‘Paige?’ he said. ‘Never.’

Yet his bewilderment and hurt were so profound that I could almost touch them. ‘Paige feels I don’t pay enough attention to the children but apparently I demand too much from her. She says she has enough children to look after. She needs to concentrate on them and I get in the way’

Despite the sun warming my back, I felt cold. ‘Martin, Paige has gone mad. Are you sure the doctor is keeping an eye on her?’

‘As far as I know, but I’ve been away quite a lot.’ He pushed aside his untouched coffee. ‘It’s a battlefield at home, but Paige is sane and well. I’ve no doubt of that. Each time she gives birth she becomes… well, stronger and more implacable. Like Clytemnestra or whoever that dreadful woman was who killed her husband for fun.’

‘He’d just slaughtered her daughter.’

‘Had he? Oh, well.’ He reached down for the handle of his bag. It’s perfectly correct that I don’t devote every waking breath, or every sleeping one for that matter, to the children. I leave that to Paige.’

‘What do you want me to do, Martin?’ I asked gently. ‘Although I’m not sure what I could do, except try to persuade Paige that’s she wrong.’

Martin gazed down at the table. He was searching for something to cling to. ‘Try to persuade her to do anything and you’ll achieve the opposite. But could you keep an eye on her? She’s not as strong as she thinks.’ He got to his feet. ‘Thank you for the coffee.’ Large and baffled, he hovered above me. ‘I know it’s a lot to ask, Minty, at the moment, but if you could keep tabs on her? Sooner or later she’ll come to her senses. Actually, I’m not sure I want to live with her at the moment anyway – she’s so awful.’ He yanked out the expanding handle of his suitcase with some force. ‘She should never have left the bank. That’s where her energies are best deployed. Children have ruined her.’