Lauren remembered now – Georgia’s mother lived down that way. Was Jude taking his wife and children to see their in-laws on the way to visit his mistress? She knew that his whole relationship with her was based on lies, half-truths and manipulations, but that somehow seemed too cold, too calculating.

‘Are you happy, darling?’

She nodded, pushing away any doubts, any fears.

‘Two whole days together. Though I’ll have to leave after lunch on Sunday.’

That wasn’t two whole days, she thought, it was barely twenty-four hours.

‘What am I this time?’ she asked. ‘An urgent business meeting or a conference?’

Jude looked taken aback.

And even Lauren was surprised at how bitter she sounded.

Chapter 37

Chapter 37

Greg and I are having dinner. At home. On our own. Goodness knows where Ellen and Bobby are. As their parents we’re not privy to such vital information. I used to insist on knowing their every movement, but I gave up when they both turned eighteen and I realised that they’d rather I didn’t know where they were. The mood at the table is sombre and, without the kids here, there’s nothing to distract us.

I’ve been running twice more this week with Blake Chadwick and my complaining muscles are currently struggling to keep me upright. My calves feel like they’ve got two tennis balls forced inside them.

Tonight, I’ve made us chilli con carne. Greg hates chilli, yet is forcing it down without complaint. He’s not even picking out the kidney beans like he normally does. The silence is stretching between us and I realise that we’ve turned into one of those couples you see in restaurants who never speak a word to each other throughout their dinner.

My husband clears his throat and takes a sip of his water.

I’m now feeling bad that I’ve made the chilli so hot.

‘Is Lauren coming up tomorrow?’ he asks, his voice gruff.

‘No. She’s having a weekend away.’ I don’t add that it’s with Jude although it’s implicit in the statement. Greg doesn’t agree with her relationship with a married man. As well as an old-fashioned view of most things in the world, he has old-fashioned morals too.

‘Thought we could do the same. The two of us. Together.’ He looks embarrassed by the thought. My heart twists. I should have done boiled potatoes. ‘Last time was a bit of a disaster,’ he adds sheepishly.

Hit the nail on the head there. ‘It was my fault as much as yours,’ I say. We give each other tentative smiles and, I guess that’s as near as we’re ever going to get to apologising to each other.

‘The weather forecast is good,’ Greg continues.

‘That would be lovely. Where to?’

If he says Cromer, I’ll scream.

‘It’s a surprise,’ he says, and concentrates on his chilli.