There weren’t any children but everyone said that was probably just as well. Joanna had never been strong and it would be criminal to interrupt such a promising career with a family. Their friends did not like to ask outright if they had taken a decision not to have children or if there was some medical problem. It was not the sort of thing you brought up out of the blue, and Simon and Joanna never discussed it. If the question had been asked Simon would have been unlikely to answer it with the truth: that they had no children because Joanna would not allow him to make love to her. He had thought when they were first married that her unease, her inability to respond to affection, was a temporary setback, a result of her previous problems. If he loved her, he thought, she would trust him enough to let herself go. But if anything the problem got worse and his sympathy wore thin. She refused to seek help. She seemed trapped in a pre-pubescent childhood, safer without the responsibilities and physical contact of adult life. In the end her frigidity was only tiresome and he stopped making the effort to get through to her. He told himself that she was sick and treated her kindly and dispassionately as if she were an invalid, and looked for sex elsewhere.

Simon arrived back from work on the Solway in time to cook Sunday dinner. He had said that he would be, and usually in the strange, businesslike way that they ordered their affairs he kept his promises. She was waiting for him and that surprised him. It was her busiest time of year. Later in the season there would be too many interruptions from trippers, interested buyers, and she liked to have the pottery stocked by Easter. Usually she worked all weekend but today she opened the door to him as soon as he had parked in the playground.

Oh God no, he thought. Not one of her scenes. Not today, to spoil it all.

‘What is it?’ he asked gently. ‘Are you feeling ill?’ Tenderness too was part of the bargain, like turning up on time.

‘No,’ she said, quite distracted. He could see that she had not brushed her hair. It was tousled as when she first got out of bed. ‘Something terrible’s happened.’

‘Let me come in,’ he said, ‘and you can tell me all about it.’ He spoke as if he expected some minor domestic disaster but he gripped the handle of his overnight case so tightly that his knuckles were white. ‘ Shall I make some coffee? Perhaps I should start on the supper?’

He set the case carefully in the hall, put his arm around her shoulder and moved her gently towards the kitchen.