When Ewan came into the room minutes later she tensed. It was the first time they’d been alone all day and they still needed to discuss the police’s revelation that Poppy had been going to Benji’s house for tea. Julia had so many questions she wanted to ask her husband – who instigated the children getting together, was it him or Imogen? Had he been to her house too? How often were they in contact? Had they ever met up without the kids?

But she still hadn’t been able to ask because once the kids had gone to bed a surprise guest turned up on the doorstep – her dad, Malcolm. It transpired Ewan had called him and asked him to fly over from southern Spain – where he’d retired to a year previously – because he thought Julia could do with the support and an extra pair of hands with the kids while they were off school.

She’d been pleased to see her dad but also wary. He and Ewan got on brilliantly but her relationship with Malcolm was more distant, a hangover from her childhood when he ruled their household with an autocratic fist. As a teen she’d avoided being in his presence as much as she could and it was only when she got married that, at Ewan’s urging, their relationship improved.

Ewan began stripping off his clothes and laying them out on the blanket box at the foot of their bed, so Julia got up to go to the toilet.

‘Where do you think you’re going?’

He grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her towards him, then started nuzzling her neck. She could feel he was already hard and was filled with dread.

‘I don’t think we should, not tonight,’ she said. ‘Dad’ll hear us in the next room.’

‘We’ll have to be quiet then.’

‘No,’ she said, pulling away. ‘It doesn’t feel right, not with everything going on.’

This time he encircled her completely with his arms, making it almost impossible for her to move.

‘But I want to,’ he murmured.

The touch of him made her agitated. How could he possibly be thinking about sex when their family was in crisis?

‘Ewan, no, I don’t want to,’ she said, and she wriggled to free herself from his clasp.

Swearing, he shoved her backwards so she landed heavily on the bed.

‘You never want to,’ he huffed.

‘That’s not true,’ she protested.

‘Yes, it is. You should count yourself lucky I’m still here – other men wouldn’t put up with what I have to and would’ve started an affair by now. But I wouldn’t, because I’m not some awful bastard.’

Please, not another row, she thought despairingly.

‘I’m sorry, I’m just not in the mood.’

‘Do you not fancy me any more? Is that it?’

Julia’s smile was genuine. ‘Are you kidding? Of course I do.’