‘Yes, he said he would. But perhaps I should start walking down to the station anyway,’ she says, wiping her hands on the fabric of her dress covering her thighs. ‘Just in case he’s delayed.’

‘Leah,’ Anton says then, and the smile he gives her doesn’t reach his eyes, ‘you’re lying.’

The words land softly and coolly between them. A new fear uncurls inside her.

‘I’m not,’ she tells him, in a small voice, but he keeps giving her that pitying smile and shakes his head in gentle admonishment.

‘Yes, you are.’

She watches as he reaches into his pocket and withdraws from it something tiny and blue. He leans forward and places it gently on the coffee-table in front of her. A SIM card from a mobile phone. She stares at it, her heart kicking out in fright.

‘You didn’t call your parents,’ he tells her, in that same calm voice. ‘You didn’t contact Jake. No one is expecting you. No one is coming for you.’

Her mind is running furiously through different calculations. The door to the sitting room is right beside her – he closed it on his way in. If she’s quick, she can make it to the door and fling it open, but he has the advantage of remaining standing – he would easily catch her before she made it to the hall. Her best bet is to stay calm and alert, to reason with him – appeal to his compassion, his humanity.

‘You read the letters, didn’t you?’

‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry.’

‘I just wanted to take care of you, Leah. To look after you.’

‘I know. You’ve been so kind.’

‘And now you know my little secret,’ he tells her, his eyes widening a fraction. ‘My little misdemeanour. It turns out I was not the best husband in the world.’

She moves her gaze, brings her focus to the glass on the table in front of her. The way he looms above her makes her feel intimidated, fearful.

‘It doesn’t matter,’ she says falteringly. ‘It’s in the past.’

‘But it changes things. You can hardly bring yourself to meet my gaze, can you?’

She forces herself to look. The smile is gone from his face. A hard expression replaces it.

‘You shouldn’t have gone through my things. Not after everything I’ve done for you. The kindness I’ve shown. Don’t you see how this changes everything?’

‘Please, Anton,’ she says, her legs trembling as she slowly gets to her feet. ‘I’m sorry for looking. I didn’t mean any harm.’

‘But the harm has been done.’

‘I won’t tell anyone what I read. No one needs to know.’

His face creases with confusion. ‘Who would you tell?’