He had laughed, twirling a lock of her hair around his index finger and thumb. ‘Your whole life,’ he had said mockingly. ‘All twenty-nine years of it.’

She had poked him in the ribs, and he had barked with laughter, then pushed himself on top of her, flattening her against the bed.

‘Good things come to those who wait,’ he had said. ‘Remember that,’ he added, smiling into her face before he kissed her, long and deep, calling to life again the desire inside her.

Remember that. The way he had said it had seemed meaningful at the time, although she had no idea what he’d meant. Only later did it start to dawn on her. A message there. An unspoken pact.

And she did remember. When she went to the courthouse almost a whole year later, and sat in the public gallery listening to all the evidence built up against him, those words of his ran in a loop through her brain, keeping her steady and still. Even when sentence was passed and she felt the crushing weight of it – all those years! – it was the one thing that kept her sane. He had looked up at her, briefly, before they led him away. To anyone watching, it would have appeared to be a fleeting glance, but to Hilary it was pointed and personal and weighted with meaning. Remember, he seemed to be saying to her. Remember to wait.

I am your Penelope, she had written in one of her letters to him. One of the many she had sent to the prison. Their correspondence had commenced shortly after the sentencing. A correspondence that was, by necessity, carefully coded. And one-sided. That part had surprised and hurt her. But then she thought about how low he must be feeling, how difficult he must be finding it to adjust, and she redoubled her efforts. So what if he didn’t reply? He would eventually. And until then she refused to let her devotion waver. It was a test, and she would pass with flying colours.

And then one day he did reply. Her heart crowding her throat as she opened the envelope and took out a single sheet of notepaper. One simple instruction printed on it: Hilary, please stop.