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embarrassed to be thought bragging about the connection. ‘Alan was at school with my husband. But am I right that you have a weekend cottage near here?’
    ‘My late husband did. A bungalow, anyway. He used to come here to paint. I’ve come to put it on the market.’
    She has flushed slightly. ‘I did know about your husband, but I’d forgotten. I’m so sorry.’
    ‘Thank you. Everyone told me not to make any changes for a year. The year is up and here I am!’
    ‘You poor thing.’ She puts her hand on my shoulder. ‘You’re too young to be going through such a thing. It must have been such a dreadful shock. Have you got anyone with you?’
    The sincerity of her sympathy is like a small sharp stab under my ribcage. Tears prick at the corners of my eyes. I look down to blink them away and shake my head, but I can still feel the pressure of her hand. The Review section is open in front of me and I watch a tear fall, as if in slow motion, and spread, darkening the paper.
    ‘So, what’s going on here then, Sue?’
    Murphy has popped up behind Mrs Samuels, his arms around her stomach, his chin resting on the top of her head. I wipe my eyes quickly with the back of my hand and try to smile.
    ‘Now remind me. Have we met?’ He is shorter in real life than on television, but also more handsome. Success has given him a physical confidence Zach said he didn’t have before.
    ‘Oh, Alan.’ Sue tries to push him off.
    He rocks her sideways in a little dance. ‘You definitely look familiar.’
    I clear my throat. ‘We’ve met once, or twice. I’m Lizzie Carter. Zach Hopkins’ wife?’
    ‘Zach Hopkins. Of course.’ He releases Sue and hurls himself on to the adjacent stool. ‘How is the old dog?’
    Sue raises her hands as if to try and stop the words from coming. ‘Alan—’ she begins.
    ‘I’m so sorry,’ I say. ‘I don’t know why you should know. He died. In a car accident.’
    ‘Dead? Is he? God, did I know that? Forgive me. When did that happen?’
    ‘A year ago.’
    ‘I’m so sorry. About the same time Jolyon went missing, then. Terrible month. God.’
    ‘Miss Carter works at Ellie and Grace’s school,’ Sue adds. ‘In the library.’
    We’ve been joined by other members of Murphy’s group – two men who stand slightly to the rear of his shoulder. Friends? Family? Security?
    ‘Patrick,’ Murphy says loudly to one of them. ‘Did you know Zach Hopkins died?’
    The man called Patrick quietly says, ‘I did.’
    I have a strong desire to get out into the fresh air. Normal social interaction is beyond me and I don’t deserve their kindness. That casual social lassoing by the upper class – I can’t be part of it. Not now. I need to get away. But whispered conversations are taking place, something is set in motion and I am suddenly powerless. Grace and Ellie have taken Howard’s lead from me, and Sue has thrown her arm around my shoulder.
    ‘Alan’s right, I’m sure Victoria would love to see you,’ Sue is saying. ‘She’ll be so sad to hear about your husband.’
    ‘Lunch!’ Murphy is bellowing. ‘The girl needs feeding up.’
    ‘It’s fine, it’s fine, it’s fine,’ I say, but Sue is clutching me close. The softness of her jumper brushes my face. ‘Come on, come up to Sand Martin with us. Murphy loves a crowd. Have one drink and then you can go off and do your thing. Just a quick one. I can’t bear to think of you on your own.’
    And maybe it’s because she is so kind, or maybe it’s because, as Zach told me, I am weak and easily led, or maybe it’s because this is what it is like to be bereaved, I allow myself to be steered into a car and away.

Zach
    September 2009
     
    I went to London today. I told Charlotte I needed to work up there and took my sketchbook and paints, slung over my shoulder in the ‘art satchel’ she just bought me. (I looked it up on the Ally Capellino website: £278. I don’t know why she thinks spending money on me will bring us