“Imagine,” I say softly. I’m not going to play his games. There’s a flash of disappointment across his face, so fast I wonder if I saw it at all.

“Now,” Chris’s voice is back to normal, “let’s have some wine.” He gets up to pad to the kitchen. “It’s going to be fine, Meggie, I promise. Just a bit of time watching Netflix, and drinking wine, and catching up on those books we keep promising we’ll read. All over in a couple of months and then everything can go back to normal.”

I tell Chris I’m going to have a bath. I don’t normally take baths here; the tub is too narrow and the bathroom so small claustrophobia sets in after a few minutes. But I’ve grown rather fond of a soak since I’ve been enjoying Leah’s luxurious house, and anything is better than sitting downstairs with Chris.

Tom has left me five messages:

17:35 Are you watching the press conference? xx

17:45 Damn, this looks bad xx

18:00 You OK, Leah? Call me xx

19:00 Are you still with your friend? Please call me so I know you’re safe? xx

19:25 Where are you? xx

I had told him I was going to visit a friend in the New Forest that weekend. A fellow writer who had a lovely little retreat where we could both work on our manuscripts in peace and quiet.

“You’re writing another book?” he had asked with bright eyes. “Tell me.”

“It’ll be a surprise,” I had said, kissing him on the nose. “A novel this time.”

“I can’t wait to read it.”

Maybe one day, when this was all over, I would write that novel. I’d been thinking of the story for a long time. Nothing about twins or cheating husbands. Although there was a body in a freezer. A chill runs through me at the thought. Perhaps my book idea had provided me with some inspiration. Some part of my subconscious directing me back at the cabin. I swallow down the bile that threatens to come up and write back to Tom, the sound of water filling the bath beside me: Signal appalling, struggling to even send texts! Still at my friend’s and trying to figure out a plan. Thinking about staying here for a bit, working on the book with the peace and quiet. Will call you tomorrow when I can go for a walk and find proper signal. Love you xx

Those last two words are out of my fingers and sent into the ether before I even think. I’ve not said it before. But it seems so right. And so very wrong: Thank God you’re OK! Agree that you are safer there anyway, London is looking a mess of cases. I love you too xx

I smile at his reply. But inside I’m wondering how I’m going to pull off weeks or even months of staying here with Chris, while keeping Tom and whatever it is between us alive.

* * *