She can hear the lack of enthusiasm in my voice.

‘What’s wrong?’

‘You can tell.’

‘Of course. Talk to me.’

I don’t want to, but I can’t work out why. Is it because I’m worried she’ll just tell me to leave things alone, to stop meddling, to stop worrying?

‘I looked through Kate’s things. The stuff Anna gave to me.’

‘Darling—’

‘I found her login details. For the website she was using.’

‘For what?’

‘Meeting men. There was a list of names. Of people she was talking to – or meeting, I guess.’

‘Have you given them to the police?’

‘Hugh said they already had them.’

‘Good. Then there’s nothing more you can do.’

But there is, though.

‘I could log on. As her, I mean. I have her password. I could find out if there was anyone else.’

For a long time she’s silent.

‘Adrienne?’

‘Wouldn’t the police have done that?’

‘I don’t know. Maybe they don’t realize what encountrz.com is? Or that Jasper1234 is her password? I thought I could go online and just look at her chat history. See if there are any other names on there.’

‘I don’t know … it sounds risky.’

Her reservation strengthens my resolve.

‘I’m just talking about getting a list of names.’

There’s a long pause, as if she’s trying to weigh something up. The wisdom of me having something to do, perhaps, versus the chance, the likelihood, it will just lead to more disappointment.

After all, she’s right. In all probability the police have done all this already.

‘I suppose it can’t hurt,’ she says. ‘As long as you’re only talking about getting the list. But why not double-check with them first?’

Suddenly I’m not sure it’s a good idea at all. A list of names. What would the police even do with it?

‘I probably won’t even bother.’

She sighs. ‘Just be careful, Julia. Whatever you do. And keep in touch.’

I spend the afternoon shopping, cooking. For a while I lose myself in the rhythm of the recipe. Just for a moment. But the evening gets off to a bad start. Connor announces that he’s doing homework and wants to eat in his room, which means that Hugh and I bicker about whether we should let him. Tensions fester, and things don’t pick up until our guests arrive.

After that the evening follows its usual pattern, yet the atmosphere is undeniably different. Kate’s death casts its now-familiar shadow – Paddy mentions it almost as soon as they arrive, and they both say how sorry they are – but it’s more than that. I’m detached, I can’t engage. They talk a lot about Geneva, where Hugh’s been invited to deliver a keynote speech at a conference next week. Maria’s going to present her work, too, and even though I’ve been there I don’t contribute. I feel outside of it all, observing from a great distance. I watch as Hugh pours wine and nod as they all sip it appreciatively, I eat the beef Wellington I’ve cooked and accept their compliments graciously, but it’s an act, I’m pretending to be a normal person. It’s not me.

When we’ve finished Paddy says he’d like to pop outside for a cigarette. ‘I didn’t know you smoked,’ I say.

‘Filthy habit,’ he says, ‘but …’ He shrugs his shoulders. I tell him we’re happy for him to smoke in the house near one of the open windows but Maria protests.

‘No way! Make him go outside!’

He pretends to be upset, but it’s good-natured, humorous. He takes his cigarettes out of his jacket and looks at me. ‘Keep me company?’

I say I will. Hugh looks at me but says nothing. We go outside, closing the patio door behind us. It’s almost dark, still warm. We sit on the wall, at the edge of the pool of light that shines from the kitchen; behind us sits my studio. He holds a cigarette out to me. ‘You don’t, do you?’

I take it. ‘Very occasionally,’ I say. He lights his cigarette and hands me the lighter. I inhale deeply, feeling the draw of the smoke, the instant hit. We sit in silence for a moment, then he asks me how I’m coping.

‘Really, I mean.’

I swallow hard. ‘It’s tough. You know …’

‘I do. My brother died. Years ago. Cancer. He was older than me …’

‘Oh, God,’ I say. ‘I had no idea.’

‘No reason you should.’ There’s silence. A beat. ‘The end wasn’t unexpected, but it was still awful. I can’t even begin to imagine what you’re going through.’

We sit for a few moments.

‘How’s Connor?’ he says.

I sigh. There’s nothing to say, yet still I’m glad he’s bothered to ask. ‘He’s all right, I think. He’s not really talked about it. I’m not sure that’s a good thing, though …’

‘He will, I guess. When he’s ready.’

‘I suppose so. I just wish I knew what he was thinking. What was going on in his mind. He spends hours in his room, though that’s nothing new, I suppose. It’s as if he’s avoiding me.’

‘He’s at that age, I suppose. Plus, he’s a boy.’

I look at him, at his profile, silhouetted against the light in the house. Is it as simple as that? I lost my mother when I was young; I have no idea what’s normal. Maybe he’s right, it’s just the fact that he’s a boy, and I’m a woman, and that’s why he’s slipping away from me. I find the thought curiously reassuring. Maybe it has nothing to do with the fact that I’m not his birth mother.

‘Have you and Maria ever thought about children?’

He looks over at his wife, visible in the kitchen, helping my husband to prepare the dessert. Connor has joined them, they’re laughing at something.

‘Not really,’ says Paddy, looking back to me. ‘Maria’s career … you know? And I’m not that bothered. I’m from a big family. We have a lot of nieces and nephews …’

He sounds disappointed, but I don’t know him well enough to probe further. Not really.

‘That’s good,’ I say. I grind my cigarette out.

‘Shall we go back in?’

‘Sure!’ He wipes his hands on his jeans, then stands up and holds out his hand for me to take. ‘Are you going to Carla’s party?’

I’d completely forgotten. Another colleague of Hugh’s, with a big house in Surrey, a large garden, a gas-fired barbecue. She throws a party every July and invites everyone. Last year had been fun, but now I’m not looking forward to it at all. I’m trapped, though; she sends the invites out in April. There’s no way we can get out of going.

‘I guess,’ I say, standing up. He smiles, and says he’s glad. It’s a fraction of a second before he lets go of my hand, not long enough to be sure it means anything at all. I’m not certain whether I’m holding on to him, or him to me.

They leave. Hugh goes into the kitchen, without saying a word. I follow him. He begins to tidy up, scraping each plate before rinsing it and putting it in the sink. He doesn’t smile, or even look at me as I speak.

‘What’s up with you?’

Still no eye contact. A plate clunks into the sink. Is this because I went outside to sit with Paddy?

‘It’s Connor,’ he says.

‘Connor?’ I pick up a cloth and begin to wipe down the worktop. ‘What about him? Are we still arguing because I said he could eat in his room?’

‘Among other things.’

I choose to ignore him. If he wants to bring anything else into this, then he’ll have to talk about it rather than make me guess.

‘He’s been really upset recently,’ I say instead. ‘I don’t think we should force him to do something he doesn’t want to do. I think we need to cut him some slack.’

He puts down the plate he’s holding and turns to face me. ‘Yes, well, I think we’ve been cutting him far too much slack lately. We shouldn’t indulge him. It’s really important we keep things normal, Julia.’

‘Meaning?’

He turns his palms upwards. ‘The grief counsellor said we mustn’t make too many allowances. He has to realize that life goes on.’

Life goes on? My anger ratchets up another notch. Life didn’t go on for Kate, did it? I take a deep breath. ‘I’m just worried about him.’

‘And I’m not? He comes in, smelling of cigarettes—’