I couldn’t wait to see Payton and Saxon and to show them and Hayley my article. Maybe I’d even show Adrian when we went to our counselling session on Wednesday. It had turned out pretty well, even if I do say so myself; once I’d started typing, my fingers had flown over the keyboard and I couldn’t get the words out fast enough. The thrill of writing something of my own—not for the clinic or school—for the first time since I’d been at university had been unlike anything I’d experienced in a long while and had given me the confidence to try and write something else.

I was still thinking about the blog Hayley had suggested and also the possibility of contacting small online publications to pitch some ideas when I arrived back at the house. Charlie bounded ahead of me to the front door and jumped up against it, making it difficult for me to unlock and open it. ‘Calm down, boy,’ I said as I pushed it open.

He raced ahead down the hallway and I followed him into the kitchen. I grabbed a pod for the machine, and then drank my coffee while I made a shopping list so I could get the groceries on the way to pick up Payton. When I’d finished, I opened the dishwasher to put my mug inside, only to discover it was still full. Struck by the warm smell of clean but not aired dishes, I started to unload it, trying not to feel too aggrieved at the fact Adrian hadn’t done the job. Maybe they were in a rush that morning—at least he’d turned it on.

I was almost done when I noticed a stain on the rim of a wineglass. Frowning, I peered closer at the glass—was that lipstick? A cold dread washed over me, but I told myself maybe Payton had been experimenting with my makeup. Then again, if she’d been doing that and using a wineglass to boot, she’d have been much cleverer about covering it up. She ran rings around her father in that department.

My heart squeezed. Surely Adrian wouldn’t have been so disrespectful to bring a woman home? And if he had, did he think I wouldn’t notice the evidence? Even without the lipstick stain, the wineglass would have been a dead giveaway because Adrian hardly ever drank wine. He was a beer man through and through.

The magnanimous thoughts I’d been feeling towards him moments earlier evaporating, I raced outside. Sure enough, when I checked the bottom of our council rubbish bin, I found all the confirmation I needed.

Tears sprang to my eyes at the sight of a half empty bottle of expensive wine unsuccessfully hidden under two garbage bags from the kitchen bin.