“Thank you, sir. Can we contact you again regarding this?”

“Well, I’d rather you didn’t. You know… what with the restrictions and all, and I may have been a little further from home than I should have been. You know how it is, the wife jabbering in my ear all day and the kids running round like heathens! I took the dogs out for a good few hours.”

“I understand, sir. But it would be helpful for us to have your name and contact details in case we need you to make an identification.” She sounded nice. Young and cheery. Probably hadn’t been working a police tip line for long; I could only imagine the kind of psychopaths who might call those lines.

“I’ll call back if I think of anything more…”

I put the phone down and grin at my wife.

“Oh dear! Do you think I was a little obvious with my description?”

I watch her swallow as she remains staring straight ahead, eyes focused deliberately on the TV in front of her to avoid mine. She has always worn her thoughts for public consumption; so easy to tell what she is thinking about. What she is worrying about.

“How long before they act on the tip, do you think?” I ask. I want her to face me, but she doesn’t give in. “I think it’ll take a while; I doubt they’ll go to talk to him tonight. Tomorrow, possibly.” I sigh, world-weary loud. I stretch my arms over my head and yawn loudly, bringing one arm round her shoulders like a sixteen-year-old at the cinema. “Now then, Meggie. How about you tell me about him, eh?” I stroke her cheek with the back of my hand. “Tell me about how you thought you could get away with cheating on me?”

“You cheated on me first.” Now she faces me, eyes blazing anger.

“That’s different, Meggie. You know that. And I was thinking of you the whole time.”

“Bullshit.”

I put my hands up. “Cross my heart and hope to die. It was only ever you, Meggie. If you’d just been a little more accommodating”—I tilt my head a little—“If you’d just been a little sweeter to me, I wouldn’t have had to, would I, eh? But now we are all in all kinds of trouble, aren’t we? A big old mess that I’m trying to clear up for us, before we drown. Isn’t it lucky you have me to make everything OK again?”

We sit side by side on the sofa for the rest of the evening, except for the few minutes she takes to fetch me drinks or snacks. I make her pee with the door open so I can keep an eye on her. I can’t risk her calling the police to redact my story or make up a load of lies to save him.

Just after eleven, an alarm on my phone beeps. The doorbell camera, the one that Tom won in a competition he didn’t remember entering a few months ago, has been activated. I take my wife by the hand and lead her to my study. I sit her down in the large chair in front of the twin monitors.