Anton was unbuckling his belt with urgency so she swallowed all her doubts and inhibitions and unbuttoned her jeans. She pushed them down to her ankles, along with her knickers, and had barely straightened up when he was upon her, and within seconds he was inside her. So different from their previous encounters, so astonishing, it felt charged with meaning, as if their relationship itself had deepened, grown even more risky and dangerous. Surprise and disbelief went through her that they were actually doing this – it took her a moment to decide to abandon herself to it, free herself from the nagging voice of doubt, unshackle herself from any thought of risk and betrayal and shame. She felt the hard rub of the wooden shed behind her buttocks, and pulled him further into her, as deep as she possibly could. When she came it was with a reckless cry into the dark, and she felt his mouth covering hers as if to suck the cry out of her, killing any noise.

She doesn’t like to think of what happened next. One minute it was just the two of them, losing themselves to their passion, and the next Charlotte was there, eyes lit up with fury and disbelief.

Hilary was shaking when she went back into the party. The karaoke was continuing, but there was no sign of Greg. She looked around for him frantically, but when Charlotte returned to the house Hilary sank back into the shadows. A moment later, she slipped out of the front door, the golden ripple of Charlotte Woodbury’s laughter following her as she hurried across the street.

All those years she had carried on. She had kept eating and sleeping. She had worked at her friendships. She had been a good neighbour. A good wife. She had shared a bed with her husband, feigning desire and even love. She had allowed him to make love to her while her mind and heart were elsewhere. It shamed her a little, to think of how she kept on living this normal life while Anton rotted in a cell.

But she didn’t forget him. She didn’t forget what he meant to her. What they meant to each other. Sometimes Hilary lay wide awake, feeling the rushing thrill of that last time together, replaying it in her mind over and over again. She would never forget what he had done for her – his sacrifice had gone unrewarded but for her one act of waiting.

Now, as the sky beyond the window fills with the granular light of dawn, there’s a push of feeling inside her – a nasty spike at the futility of it all. All this time she has waited.