‘Oh dear,’ she said, kneeling by the bath to stroke his cheek. ‘Are you OK now, darling? Was it a bad one?’

‘Yes. And Daddy drove really fast.’

She looked at me, raising an eyebrow.

‘Did he now?’

‘He was fine once I got him on his inhaler. Thought I had one in the car but I think I used it last time and didn’t replace it. My fault, really.’

Mel turned back to our son.

‘And how was school, William?’

‘I was really very good, Mummy,’ he said slowly, pronouncing each word. ‘I got the Superstar award from Mrs Green.’

Mel gave him a big surprised-smile.

‘Well that’s fantastic, William.’

‘For sitting nicely in assembly.’

‘Aren’t you a good boy?’

‘Yes. But Daddy isn’t.’

Mel raised an eyebrow at me.

‘Is that so?’

I shook my head, forced a smile.

Should have thought of this, talked to him about what happened.

‘It is so,’ William said.

‘Why has Daddy not been good?’

‘William –’ I started.

‘This sounds interesting,’ my wife said.

‘It was nothing, really,’ I said quickly, scrabbling to think up a way of deflecting what my son was about to say.

‘Not nothing,’ William said.

Mel took another drink of water from the bottle, looking at me.

‘So why was Daddy bad, William?’

‘Because he said I can’t have a hamster.’

I exhaled, slowly.

‘I didn’t say that, big man, just that we’d see.’

Abruptly, William stood up out of the bath, his arms outstretched.

‘Towel, Daddy! Towel towel towel!’

I plucked him from the bath and wrapped him up in a towel that was bigger than he was.

Mel crossed her arms.

‘A hamster, eh?’

I shrugged. ‘I said we’d think about it.’

She nodded, turned in the doorway.

‘I’m going to get a quick shower.’

‘Listen, Mel?’

She turned back to me.

‘What’s up?’

‘You sure you’re OK?’

‘’Course. Why?’

‘I saw you earlier and you seemed upset. Left you some messages.’

She frowned, cocked her head to one side.

‘My phone’s out of charge. When did you see me earlier?’

‘About five, at this hotel on the North Circular.’

She took a sip of water from her bottle, swallowed slowly. Then another.

And that was when everything I knew started to fall apart.

7

‘A hotel?’ she said.

‘Near Brent Cross. I was worried about you.’

She shook her head.

‘I wasn’t at a hotel, Joe, I was at tennis. Thursday night social, same as always.’

‘But I saw you.’

‘You can’t have, Joe, I wasn’t anywhere near Brent Cross.’

I tried to make sense of what she was saying.

‘You weren’t?’

She laughed quickly.

‘Couldn’t very well have lost 6–1 6–0 to Hilary Paine if I was, could I?’

‘But we saw you. Your car.’

‘That beer’s gone to your head, darling. I’m going to grab a quick shower before tea.’

She turned and left.

I stared at the empty doorway for a long moment, then started to dry William’s fine brown hair with the towel. The sound of the shower starting up in the en suite reached me from across the landing.