‘Don’t say that. It’s just not true. I can’t go through it all again because I can’t feel the same as I did.’ Christopher put down his glass and clasped his hands together, almost as if he were trying to contain and channel his emotions. ‘When you went my world fell apart. I wanted to call you. I was desperate to get in touch, but you didn’t leave an address, or a phone number. You even changed your mobile number. How could I find you?’

Kate looked down, embarrassed. ‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.’

‘Then one day I bumped into a couple in the street–patients–and they asked me if I had enjoyed my stay in the Dorchester the night before. Said they’d seen you there and so assumed that I’d been there, too. They obviously didn’t know. So I went there. I was walking up to the hotel when I saw you come out. You had your arm in his. You were laughing. You looked so happy. Then he kissed you on the cheek and helped you into the back of the car. I just stood there, looking. Feeling so foolish. Foolish for having lost you.’

‘I’m so sorry,’ Kate whispered. ‘I had no idea.’

‘I saw clearly then that it was my own fault; for not having let you know how much I loved you. How much I needed you. I don’t know how I got through those next few months. It sounds dramatic, but I do know what living hell is now, and I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy. I did come close to giving up. I had the means. I even ordered the tablets. But then I got so angry with myself. Angry that I could think of going and leaving my children. What would they think of a father who took the easy way out?’

Christopher took a sip of his whisky. ‘And then, to crown it all, I got the push. Not that that was anything to do with us. Not really. Though I suppose there were some who thought it was. No wife, no job, no prospects. Not much of a catch really.’

Kate sat quite still, the tears welling up in her eyes.