Two weeks later, I saw my London chance. It was a Monday morning and Zac came into the bedroom to say goodbye before leaving for work, mentioning a sudden trip to University College Hospital. He needed to be there on Friday, when he had an afternoon meeting. He would set out early, but didn’t want to drive home the same day so he’d stay overnight. That was his usual routine on such occasions.

An hour after Zac left, I phoned Milly. I used a tiny burner phone no bigger than my index and middle finger pressed alongside each other. I’d hidden it in a secret pocket that I sewed into the hem of the curtains I made for the baby’s room.

The hidden phone pocket wasn’t the only special thing about the curtains. I’d had Milly’s drawing of the Mermaid of Zennor digitally printed onto aqua fabric. The figure was stamped in brown ink, because I wanted to honour the original dark wood of the Mermaid Chair. Milly’s primitivist design was beautiful in its simplicity. I couldn’t wait to show her, but she hated to visit the house when Zac was there.

Milly didn’t question me when I asked if she could confirm that Zac was in the building. She said that she’d seen him talking to Sister five minutes earlier, so I headed straight for the local library, leaving my mobile at home to ensure I couldn’t be tracked.

I logged into the British Library’s online system to make the arrangements, relieved that I’d squeaked through before it was too late. It took a minimum of two days to get a newspaper from the Stores to the Newsroom, and you needed to place an advance order at least four days before you required it. The article about the incident in the Irish hotel would be waiting for me on Friday.

I cooked Zac’s favourite dinner. Prime rib so rare the juice ran pink and I could smell iron. It was the smell dirty coins left on your fingers.

When Zac came home, he poured himself a glass of the strong red wine I’d already uncorked. ‘I tried to call you this morning.’

‘I didn’t hear it ring.’ I could taste the wine, from his kiss.

‘The landline and your mobile.’ His colour didn’t change.

‘Oh.’ I licked my lips, wishing I could pour myself a glass too.

‘You haven’t been yourself lately, Holly.’ There wasn’t a drop of sweat. His blinking stayed at the same rate. ‘It’s as if you’ve gone to another planet.’

‘I feel, sometimes, that you’re looking for things that I do wrong.’