‘Don’t rip them!’

‘It’s just a pair of tights.’

‘They are not just a pair of tights. They were … a gift.’

‘Still a pair of tights,’ she muttered.

She finally got them off, leaving them in a black and yellow heap on the floor. In the other room I could hear the clatter of hangers as the rest of my clothes were presumably being hastily replaced.

A moment later, Lily appeared in the living room. In her bra and knickers. She waited until she could be sure she had our attention, then pulled a short dress slowly and ostentatiously over her head, wiggling as it went over her slim, pale hips. Then she smiled at me sweetly. ‘I’m going clubbing. Don’t wait up. Nice to see you again, Mr –’

‘Fielding,’ said Sam.

‘Mr Fielding.’ She smiled at me. A smile that wasn’t a smile at all. And with a slam of the door, she was gone.

I let out a shaky breath, then walked over and retrieved the tights. I sat down on the sofa and straightened them out, smoothing them until I could be sure there were no snags or cigarette burns.

Sam sat down beside me. ‘You okay?’ he said.

‘I’m know you must think I’m crazy,’ I said eventually, ‘but they were a –’

‘You don’t have to explain.’

‘I was a different person. They meant that – I was – he gave …’ My voice was choked.

We sat there in the silent flat. I knew I should say something but I was lost for words, and there was an enormous lump in my throat.

I took Sam’s jacket off, and held it out to him. ‘It’s fine,’ I said. ‘You don’t have to stay.’

I felt his eyes on me but didn’t raise mine from the floor.

‘I’ll leave you to it then.’

And then, before I could say anything else, he was gone.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

I was late to the Moving On Circle that week. Having left me a coffee, perhaps in lieu of an apology, Lily had subsequently spilt green paint on the hall floor, left a tub of ice cream to melt on the side in the kitchen, taken my door keys, with my car key attached, because she couldn’t find her own, and borrowed my wig for a night out without asking. I had recovered it from the floor of her bedroom. When I put it on, I looked as if an Old English Sheepdog were doing something unmentionable to my head.

By the time I reached the church hall, everyone else was sitting down. Natasha moved obligingly so that I could take the plastic chair beside her.

‘Tonight we’re talking about signs that we might be moving on,’ said Marc, who was holding a mug of tea. ‘These don’t have to be huge things – new relationships, or throwing out clothes or whatever. Just small things that make us see there may be a way through grief. It’s surprising how many of these signs go unnoticed, or we refuse to acknowledge them because we feel guilty for moving forward.’

‘I joined a dating website,’ said Fred. ‘It’s called May to December.’

There was a low hum of surprise and approval.

‘That’s very encouraging, Fred.’ Marc sipped his tea. ‘What are you hoping to get from it? Some company? I remember you said you particularly missed having someone to go for a walk with on Sunday afternoons. Down by the duck pond, wasn’t it, where you and your wife used to go?’

‘Oh, no. It’s for internet sex.’

Marc spluttered. There was a brief pause while someone handed him a tissue to mop the tea off his trousers.

‘Internet sex. That’s what they’re all doing, isn’t it? I’ve joined three sites.’ Fred held up his hand, counting them off on his fingers. ‘May to December, that’s for young women who like older men, Sugar-Papas, for young women who like older men with money, and … um … Hot Studs.’ He paused. ‘They weren’t specific.’

There was a short silence.

‘It’s nice to be optimistic, Fred,’ said Natasha.

‘How about you, Louisa?’

‘Um …’ I hesitated, given Jake was in front of me, and then thought, What the hell? ‘I actually went on a date this weekend.’

There was a low woo-hoo! from other members of the group. I looked down a little sheepishly. I couldn’t even think about that night without colour seeping into my face.

‘And how did it go?’

‘It was … surprising.’

‘She shagged someone. She totally shagged someone,’ said Natasha.

‘She’s got that glow,’ said William.

‘Did he have moves?’ said Fred. ‘Got any tips?’

‘And you managed to not think about Bill too much?’

‘Not enough to stop me … I just felt I wanted to do something that …’ I shrugged ‘… I just wanted to feel alive.’

There was a murmur of agreement at that word. It was what we all wanted, ultimately, to be freed from our grief. To be released from this underworld of the dead, half our hearts lost underground, or trapped in little porcelain urns. It felt good to have something positive to say for once.

Marc nodded encouragingly. ‘I think it sounds very healthy.’

I listened to Sunil say that he had started to listen to music again, and Natasha talk about how she had moved some of the pictures of her husband from the living room to her bedroom ‘so that I don’t end up talking about him every single time somebody comes round’. Daphne had stopped sniffing her husband’s shirts, furtively, in his wardrobe. ‘If I’m honest, they didn’t really smell of him any more anyway. I think it was just a habit I’d got into.’