The young couple made their excuses, then hurried away downstairs. He imagined them turning to each other with muffled hilarity, falling into one another’s arms, delighted and aghast at the awful behaviour of that odd couple upstairs.

After they’d left, Charlotte had held his gaze, raising her eyebrow in an arch expression, saying, ‘What?’ like some bratty teenager. He knew it was his fault, and when he attempted to apologize, she stormed past him. He could hear her crying upstairs but, like a coward, he remained in the living room, drinking his gin and watching the light fade from the window. When he finally went upstairs, their room was empty. He found her asleep in Mark’s bed, the little boy wrapped around her, his arm slung across her neck.

The first time he met Hilary – so, a bad start. Almost immediately, Charlotte took against her.

‘She’s a dull sort, don’t you think?’ she would say to Anton. ‘Not even you would be tempted.’

They had a little dog, which drove Charlotte mad with its constant yipping.

She complained that they left their washing on the line for too long. That the dog fouled the garden and they were lazy about cleaning it up. The wife was always hanging around, staring after her – it gave Charlotte the creeps.

Anton knew that none of this was real or, rather, that it had nothing to do with Hilary but stemmed from Charlotte’s deep unhappiness over his betrayal. It was always the same after she’d discovered one of his affairs – the drinking and the carping began. He knew it wouldn’t last. In the same way he knew that it was best for him to hold his tongue. But when the dog snapped at Mark, and Charlotte insisted it be destroyed, he felt the guilt of letting things get so far.

Hilary was different from the other women. Different because he hadn’t pursued her in the way he had the others. There was no need to. He sort of stumbled into their affair, and engaged in it half-heartedly. It was lazy and foolish, but in the heat-haze of that summer, it served as a distraction.

They said stupid things to each other in the way that all lovers do – lavish praise and excessive sentiment, but it was all just part of the game. It wasn’t serious.