‘Promise? I know what you’re like when you get into a store – you just start buying everything else you think you need.’

She grinned at him and touched his thigh suggestively. ‘You’re all I need.’

‘Yeah yeah!’

She leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. And immediately saw that strange, unsettling look in his eyes. So different to when they had first got together, when she saw only deep love. ‘I promise,’ she said.

Niall’s mother was Spanish. He had a shock of dark-brown curls and a face that had reminded her, the first time she saw him, of a younger version of the actor Dominic West. When he smiled, he was the handsomest man on earth. When he was angry, he looked almost Neanderthal.

Their regular Sunday pastime was visiting National Trust properties whenever possible, which were free on their membership card. But this afternoon they’d been to Parham House, owned by a different trust, wandering around its glorious deer park.

Niall drove into the car park of the huge Tesco superstore, three miles to the west of their home in Brighton. And was immediately annoyed by the queue of cars in front of them. ‘Look at this – shit, baby – this is going to take ages.’

‘Just stop the car and I’ll jump out and run in while you park. Then I’ll come and find you.’

‘That stuff’s heavy – are you sure?’

She gave him a sideways look. ‘When did you last actually get any?’

‘Um – I don’t remember.’

‘So how do you think it appears in the house? By magic? Does the Tooth Fairy bring it?’

‘OK, OK, muscle woman – look, I’ll pull in over there.’ He swung into an empty bay, some distance from the store.

Grabbing her handbag, Eden jumped out, blew him a kiss, slammed the door and hurried off through the maze of vehicles.

Niall turned up the volume on the radio and listened to Laura Palumbo singing ‘Life Goes On’.

It was followed by another song. He was tempted to light a cigarette, but Eden didn’t like him smoking in the car. She didn’t actually like him smoking at all. So he just sat, listening to the music, looking anxiously at his watch then at the car clock. Van Morrison’s ‘Brown Eyed Girl’. Then another song, Johnny Cash, ‘You Are My Sunshine’. They both loved country and western. Maybe she’d be back before the song ended – this was one of her faves.

But she wasn’t.

Another song played. Then another.

Twenty minutes had passed, he realized. What’s going on? he wondered. She’s probably shopping for more stuff, despite her promise. The sky was darkening further. His chances of catching the final stages of the Grand Prix were fading. He had recorded it and could watch it later or tomorrow, but that really wasn’t the same. Now his concern was to get home before it started raining and to head out on his bike.

He looked at the car clock, then his watch yet again. Another song. Twenty-five minutes. Then half an hour. What the hell are you doing in there? In a flash of temper, he punched the steering wheel boss – and winced in pain.