The second cup of tea has now gone cold. She should get up, get on. Martin will be back soon. Once the children are in bed, they will curl close on the sofa as they used to do. She’ll share her news properly and he’ll put his arm round her and tell her that leaving her job was exactly the right thing to do. They’ll start to make plans and then they’ll go to bed together. They’ll make love, she promises herself. The drama of the evening will finish on a happy note; the kind of ending dramas are supposed to have. The flat is very quiet. She walks to the kitchen and turns on the radio. She could have joined them at the party though he didn’t suggest that. It’s too late now, and besides, she might have blurted out her news when she’d prefer to tell him in private. She’ll make the flat very tidy and then they can relax. She puts the breakfast cereal away and wipes down the units, polishing the surfaces till they shine; all the time, an image of the hooded boy who ran past her flickers in and out of her mind. It’s time to share exactly what happened to her that night in July and how she’s been feeling since. Martin will help, even if he simply listens with his arm round her; that will help.