She lifted the front cover to show him as the clock ticked louder.

He tilted his head to read, then reached to take it from her hand and turned it over to read the back. His brow furrowed, two deep troughs between his eyes.

Bad troughs.

Trouble clouds.

Warning signs.

She tensed. A familiar trickle of unease unfurled inside her stomach. Crawled into her chest. Seeped across her shoulders. Down her arms.

Robbie cleared his throat and began to read aloud from the back of the book.

‘“Could she tell anyone what was going on, and if she did, would anyone believe her?” Interesting.’ He looked at her. ‘What’s the book about?’

She swallowed. ‘Oh. It’s a silly one I picked up at the bookstore. I didn’t even read the back.’

‘Well, you’re halfway through now, according to your bookmark. So, tell me, what’s it about?’

She opened her mouth to speak, but no words took shape.

‘I’m waiting.’ Robbie dropped the book to the floor. He swivelled on the couch so he was facing her.

She swallowed again. ‘It’s about a woman, struggling in her marriage, who meets someone new.’

‘Why is she struggling in her marriage?’

‘They just … they just don’t get along.’

‘Because?’

‘Because … they’re incompatible.’

‘I can’t help feeling you’re not telling me the whole story.’ Robbie wrapped his fingers around her wrist. Gently. No pressure. For now. ‘The back suggests there’s more to it.’ He pointed towards the book on the floor. He wasn’t talking about the words of the blurb, she knew that. He was talking about the opaque image behind the words. The woman’s haunted face, the purple skin around her eye, the tiny spill of blood at the corner of her lip.

‘Her husband has a stressful job and sometimes … loses his cool.’

‘And she goes off with someone else?’

Mary nodded. A tiny, shuddered movement.

‘And what do you think of that?’

It bloomed inside now, just as it always did. The terror. The tell-tale heart ticking loud.

‘You think that’s a reasonable thing to do? To walk out on your husband because he gets a bit stressed from time to time?’

She tried to say no. But he wasn’t listening. He stood, yanking her off the couch by her wrist.

‘Is this your way of telling me?’

‘No, that’s not it. It’s just a silly book. I’m not going any—’

The slap caught her off guard. She’d been here a hundred times before, but he always avoided her face.

‘Now look what you’ve made me do!’ He was yelling.

‘Lily, don’t wake her … she’ll be frightened …’ she whispered, putting her free hand to her stinging cheek. He smacked it away.

‘Oh, that’d suit you. Make me the bad guy, frightening the child. On her birthday, of all days. You’ve ruined it. You’ve fucking ruined it.’ He threw her then, like a rag doll. She landed on the living room floor, cracking her head against the corner of the fireplace. Stunned for a moment, she didn’t move. He hovered above her. Quivering. She braced herself for a kick, tucking her legs, trying to cover her ribs. He always went for her legs or her ribs. But not this time. This time he raised his foot and stamped down on her hand. She put her other hand to her mouth, to stifle the scream. Lily must not see this. Lily must never see this.