When Annie took to the promenade the following morning for her pre-work walk, the weather was bitter, though at least for the moment, the sky seemed to have wrung itself dry. A storm had started around midnight and hadn’t burned itself out until the early hours. The promenade was several inches deep in displaced shingle that had been vomited up and left by last night’s waves. The roiling sea was as brown as Annie had ever seen it: churned up with sand and seaweed and frothing at the mouth. The dark clouds scudded by as though on a conveyor belt. Even the seagulls struggled to fly against the forceful air currents.

She considered last night as she walked. Admittedly, it wasn’t her finest moment. The boys had crept gingerly downstairs after Max had left and found her mopping up the water that hadn’t been absorbed by Max’s clothes. She’d confessed to her outburst, which they’d more than likely heard anyway, but they seemed to find it hilarious.

“We didn’t know he was still seeing Ellie,” said Peter, when the jokes about her starting a new life as a bucket-wielding circus clown had subsided.

“If we had, we would absolutely have told you,” Alex added, and Greg agreed.

“I’d have made him,” said Greg, ruffling Alex’s hair.

“Oh my God, Greg, you know how long it takes me to do my hair!”

Peter laughed. “You should grow it like mine, bro,” he said, pulling his mane back into a ponytail. “Easier to handle.”

“Casual yeti has never been my style,” Alex retorted.

“So, the whole bucket, then,” said Greg.

“Every last drop,” said Annie.

“And you mopped him,” said Alex. “That’s a bit weird, isn’t it, angry-mopping a person?”

“It was a spur-of-the-moment thing,” said Annie.

“Spontaneous husband mopping,” Greg mused.

“In a funny way, I feel kind of bad for him,” said Peter.

“Sorry,” said Annie. “I’m sure he’ll be okay once he’s dried off.”

“No, jeez, Mum, what are you apologizing for? I don’t mean the drenching. I mean I feel sad that he’s such a mess, it must be awful to be wrapped up in so many lies.”

“Stressful,” agreed Alex.

“Well, there’s an easy cure,” said Greg. “He just needs to stop being such a bloody liar!”

“You’re not planning on becoming a psychiatrist, are you, Greg?” Annie asked.

“Life coach.” He grinned.

—

After half an hour’s walk, she was braced for the day. She let herself in by the café door, flicked on the lights, and made straight for the heaters. Five minutes later, with her hands thawing out nicely and the coffee machine grumbling into life, Annie began to take the chairs down from the tables and then she stopped.