I disembark and make the trek through the endless corridors of the airport to pick up my luggage. I don’t mind if it’s the usual long wait. I’m in no rush to get home, but it’s the end of January and the airport isn’t very busy, so the bags are with us within fifteen minutes. I heave my suitcase off the conveyor belt and head for the taxi rank.

I’m halfway to the door when I hear my name being called, and I stop dead. This can’t be right, surely? I turn slowly, and there he is.

Ian.

Clutching a bunch of supermarket flowers and holding them out towards me, he smiles as if nothing has happened, but I can see his eyes are narrow, calculating.

‘You didn’t think I would leave you to get a taxi home, did you?’ he asks. ‘Here, let me take your case. You have these. Sorry they’re not more exciting but it’s the most I could afford.’

‘Why are you here?’ I stutter. But I know why. It’s another of his games to put me on the back foot.

‘Why wouldn’t I be?’ He reaches out his spare arm to touch my shoulder, and I flinch. Is he insane? ‘Oh, I get it. You think I’m still mad at you,’ he says.

He laughs then, the harsh note piercing the racket of the airport. I want to shout at him, to tell him how he ruined my holiday, to ask him why he hasn’t moved out of my house. But he is behaving as if none of it ever happened.

‘Look, you’re right: I was pissed off with you,’ he says. ‘But everybody has rows. We were fine until you insisted on going on that stupid holiday. You were just being obstinate, but I’m over it. Come on, let’s get you home.’

I know exactly how his mind is working. He thinks I’m too weak to put up a fight, and if he acts as if everything is normal I will probably accept it. I don’t know how to react. I don’t want to get in the car with him, but I need to go home – to my home. Taking the bus or a taxi isn’t going to make any difference. He will get back before me – in my car – and will be sitting in my chair, waiting for me.

‘We’ll talk in the car,’ is all I can bring myself to say.

I hear him sigh. ‘Oh, don’t look like that,’ he says, a hint of irritation in his voice. ‘It’s over now. I’ve forgiven you, so let’s move on.’