I opened my mouth. Closed it again. There wasn’t really a right answer to that question.

Beth said: ‘Let me tell you: 139. There are 139 obscene pictures of your Melissa on my husband’s phone, sent over the last four months.’

‘That can’t be right,’ I mumbled.

‘Oh, it’s right. Trust me. I’ve counted them. Every single one. Not to mention 281 text messages from the last month alone. Sent from her phone to his. And 195 messages sent back from his phone. Shall I read out one of Mel’s?’

Mel shook her head, but it was a hopeless gesture. A tear rolled down her cheek.

‘This is from two weeks ago. “Baby”, ’ Beth started, her pale cheeks starting to flush red. ‘ “Miss you soooo much. Want to do last night again SOOON!!! When Boring Beth away next?? xxx”. ’

Behind me, I heard Phoebe starting to cry with a high-pitched sob. Within a second, Sophie had joined her.

‘Boring Beth, am I? All your fake sympathy and your help and your story about meeting Ben for work – it was all disgusting bloody lies. What did I do to deserve this from you? Tell me, what did I do?’

Mel said something, but it was too quiet to hear.

‘What?’ Beth barked at her.

‘I’m sorry,’ Mel sniffed.

‘Of course you are. Sorry you got caught.’

‘So sorry, Bee.’

‘If you’re really sorry, you’ll tell me where Ben is.’

‘Beth, I don’t know.’ Her breath caught in another sob. ‘I swear.’

‘Lying bitch!’

She made to reach for Mel. I put a hand on her shoulder.

‘That’s enough,’ I said.

‘Get your hands off me!’

The pub manager reappeared with a chef from the kitchen. They flanked Beth, took hold of an arm each, and marched her out of the pub.

Mel had her head in her hands, trembling with sobs. Kate had one tearful daughter in her lap, the other clutched to her side.

William, seeing his mother in distress, was crying too. I crouched next to him and used a napkin to dry his tears.

‘It’s OK, matey. She’s gone now. Shh, it’s all right.’

‘Don’t like Alice’s mummy,’ he said, sniffling.

‘She’s gone now. It’s OK.’

A low murmur of conversation started up around us as the other customers started to discuss what they’d just seen, like it was some reality show on TV.

Adam turned to me, his face pale.

‘What the hell, Joe?’ His voice was low and hard. ‘What’s going on?’

‘I’ll talk to her,’ I said. ‘Back in a minute.’

With fifty pairs of eyes on me, I followed Beth out of the pub. The manager was standing by the front door, presumably to ensure that she didn’t try to come back in.

Beth was in the car park, leaning on the bonnet of her Mercedes estate. She stared at me as I approached and I could see that she was crying now, tears on her cheeks, her chest rising and falling with sobs as all the emotion drained out of her.