Gary looked at the large man in the grey suit who was now perspiring heavily. ‘I don’t know. I can’t say that I remember him, though I did have other things to concentrate on that night.’

Sarah smiled at him.

Gary turned and spoke to a woman who was taking notes on the seat behind him. ‘Have we got their names?’ he asked.

‘Yes,’ she said, and flipped back the pages on her pad. ‘The fat one’s name is Randall Cummings and the thin one…hang on…here we are…Montagu Loveday.’

Christopher showered and changed. His mind was clearer now. He would not rush things. He would take his time and do it properly. Matt was right in one respect at least. He did still love Kate. You could not be married to someone for almost thirty years without loving them. Well, you could, but you’d be a fool to yourself if you stayed, and he flattered himself that he was no fool. Foolish, maybe, but that was different.

He poured a large Scotch for himself and took it into the sitting room. Then he ran his finger along the shelf of CDs behind the sofa. La Boheme? No. Too tragic. Tosca? Too many recent memories. He settled on The Barber of Seville. Rossini would lift his spirits. Keep him forward thinking. He took a slug of Scotch and heard the opening bars of the overture. Then he heard the doorbell. It would be Matt. He must have forgotten his key. He got up and walked across the hall to the front door. It was not Matt. It was Kate.

‘Hello,’ she said.

He had not expected her to come back so soon. She looked radiant, her hair and make-up fresh, as though she were about to go out.

‘Oh! Hello!’ Then, by way of breaking the ice, ‘You look smart. You must be going somewhere.’

Kate shrugged. ‘Only here.’

Christopher was taken aback. ‘Oh, I see. Well, come in.’

He took her coat, then gestured towards the sitting room. It seemed odd, doing that to your own wife in her own home. Well, what was her own home.

‘Drink?’ he asked.

‘Thanks.’

Christopher did not have to ask what she wanted. He left her for a moment and went to the fridge in the kitchen to get her a glass of chilled white wine. When he came back she was sitting at one end of the sofa, with the music playing behind her.

‘I’m sorry. I’ll turn it down…’

‘No, really. It’s fine.’

‘No. I know you don’t like it.’ He adjusted the volume so that the music was barely audible.

‘I didn’t expect you back so soon.’ He sat down opposite her in an armchair.

‘No. Only I didn’t want to wait any longer. To see what you thought.’