I remember trying to move things on. To think about the next thing. To bring up the subject of children again. And it was only on the fourth of these occasions, a Wednesday evening when we were eating a Greek salad and flatbreads that I’d thrown together in the hope of pleasing you, that you finally seemed to grow angry.

I remember the expression on your face as you put your fork down and said, ‘I don’t think you’re responsible enough to have a child, do you?’

I shouldn’t have asked what you meant. I already knew.

‘Come on. Anyone who gets blind drunk and can’t remember what they’ve done isn’t responsible.’ Your voice was loud. Full of outrage. ‘You lost your handbag and keys a week ago, Louise. At a nice restaurant. God knows what you’re like when I’m out of the country. How would you look after a kid?’

I felt breathless with hurt. We’d got drunk together. You’d been just as shitfaced as I’d been. And I’d been so, so well behaved the rest of the time. With April. When I was on my own.

‘But I don’t do anything when you’re away,’ I told you, my voice tight. Choking. ‘Not any more. Not after that – that horrible man …’

You got to your feet at that point, pushing your kitchen chair back so hard that it made a screeching sound on the lino.

‘Look, I don’t want to talk about this right now. OK? I’m tired. It’s been a long week.’

And it had, of course. It had been like every other week. You’d been away for three days, and I’d been either performing or rehearsing around that. This was the one night we’d had together, and I suddenly felt awful for having ruined it. So I let it go. I swallowed the hurt, and I cleared up the remains of our dinner in silence.

But I didn’t forget it. I dwelled on it for the next four days, until the morning I opened your bank statement instead of mine. There are probably a lot of truths discovered about spouses this way, though I imagine that some husbands or wives are clever enough to open them on purpose.

I’m happy to admit that I wasn’t clever at all. I assumed that your lavish gifts and lifestyle were based on a serious salary and savings. I thought I could sit back and enjoy it. That the amount we spent on our wedding had been entirely justified given how much you earned. I really did think this, Niall. It was never wilful ignorance on my part.

And then I read that statement, with its fully used overdraft of thirty thousand, and it filled me with horror.