If she thought he had married down, I thought she had married up. Marcus is a true gentleman and the real reason behind the boys’ good manners. Without his steadying influence in her life, I dread to think what kind of a wreck she would have turned out to be.

After lunch we say our goodbyes and drive back to Guildford so I can start packing for the week ahead. I’ve told Chris I need to travel tonight to get a head start on a new project.

“Where to this time?” He is sitting on the end of the bed watching me.

“Milton Keynes.” I make a face.

“Video call me when you get there?” he says. “I want to see the lovely hotel they have you staying in!”

It used to be a joke, back at the beginning. Which of us was staying at the worse place that week. We used to have a competition where we would find the most offensive item in our respective rooms and place it on the bedside table while we video called. But tonight, I was hoping to go straight to Leah’s and have a lovely long bath before prepping for the presentation I have to give tomorrow. I’m not actually working in Milton Keynes; my new client is very conveniently based just alongside the London Business School by Regent’s Park. I could walk it in under half an hour from Leah’s house.

Instead, I spend my evening schlepping up the M1 and finding a Holiday Inn. I pay for three nights as Megan Hardcastle, just in case Chris decides to call the hotel feigning some emergency. In the room, I video call him and walk through the room and its amenities.

It is gone midnight before I make it to Leah’s.

The next day Chris rings my mobile just after six. “Did you watch?” No pleasantries to open the conversation.

I don’t reply. I am too busy trying to juggle two lives and driving unnecessarily to fucking Milton Keynes to have time for TV, for God’s sake.

“The prime minister. Did you watch the press conference?”

“No.” What have I missed?

“He’s telling everyone to avoid unnecessary travel, not go to the pub and work from home.”

“Why?”

“Are you stupid? This virus thing.”

“Oh, that. I’m too busy right now. Look, I’ll be home on Friday, OK?” This week was kind of crucial to my Free Megan campaign.

That’s what I’d started to call it in my head: Free Megan. The idea that Megan was trapped and needed someone to emancipate her. I had always told myself that I was strong, that I was a survivor and that whatever happened I would be OK. Now I think of myself in the third person like someone I need to rescue.

I have decided that Megan is going to run away. Leave enough clues that people know I have gone, but not enough that they know where to look for me. It is vital there is no suggestion of foul play, no inkling that Chris has done something awful. But at the same time, I don’t want Chris to go looking and realize there is no one to find.