“You’re a fucking joke. Look at you, with that stupid watch. You’re not a diver, are you? Wait a minute—shall we see if it works?”

She moves towards him, grabs his hand and turns it over, unclasps his watch, and drops it into her full glass of wine. “Oops,” she says, as the wine sloshes out over her wrist.

The fury on his face. Tamsin, white with shock.

“You people. Do you have any idea how ridiculous you are? You people,” she says again, waving her glass at Tamsin and Mark. “You’re the problem, do you know that?”

“Cate.” Sam steps forward. “Mark’s right, you’ve had enough. You’re a breastfeeding mother, for God’s sake.”

“Oh. Oh, I’m a breastfeeding mother, am I?”

“You’re tired.”

“Oh!” She bangs the glass down onto the table. “Oh, that’s priceless. Of course I’m tired. I haven’t had a full night’s sleep in almost a year. You know. I’m sorry I haven’t got a system, Sam. I’m sorry I haven’t got a functioning fucking system. It’s a form of torture, you know. Sleep deprivation. Did you know that? They break soldiers with it. I mean—you may not be that bright, but at least you can grasp that.”

“I really don’t think we need to have this conversation here.”

“Yeah, go on. Shut me down. Shut me up. I shouldn’t even be here. I shouldn’t even be in this fucking marriage. In this fucking town.”

She looks around at them all, the way they are staring, slack-jawed.

She watches as Mark moves towards Tamsin, as though to protect her, his arm around her, the way she shelters in her husband’s bulk. And she understands, in a pure clear moment that cuts through the wine, that she hates this man. Hates everything he is and everything he represents. She lifts her sleeve. “Shall I show you what I wear on my wrist?” she says to Mark. “It’s a spider. To remind me to keep fighting. Not to capitulate. Not to forget to fight men like you.”

Hannah

SHE HEARS CATE SHOUTING FROM WHERE SHE LIES ON THE bed. The door banging. Concerned voices. She knows she should go to check, because whatever has happened sounds serious, but she is filled with a great exhaustion, all of her cells heavy with it, as though she has been walking, walking for such a long time, with such a heavy load on her back, and her body is so tired. She just wants to lie here curled beside this child, to feel the warmth of him, and maybe sleep beside him for a while. There are footsteps on the stairs, the door opening a crack.

“Hannah?” Nathan’s voice.

“Yes?”