“For me? How was any of this for my benefit? I didn’t want to leave the children, you knew I didn’t; all I’ve done all week is fret about them.”

“That’s exactly my point!” Guy was shouting now. “You’re obsessed with the children. They’re all you think about.”

“They’re my children, Guy! Of course I’m bloody obsessed with them.”

“So where does that leave me? The children take up all your time. What’s left for me?”

“What?”

“Don’t look at me like that. It’s not normal, Cam. And it’s not only me; my mother thinks it’s weird as well.”

Nory winced.

“Should we be listening to this?” she whispered.

“Fuck yeah!” Pippa hissed back.

Camille’s voice seemed to rise several octaves. “What the fuck would your mother know? You were brought up by nannies and then packed off to boarding school!”

“Now hold on just one second . . .”

“No, Guy, you hold on. Yes, our children take up all my time, and I’ll tell you why. Because they are three and five and eight years old—they are physically and mentally incapable of looking after themselves because of the fact that they are three and five and eight fucking years old! If they aren’t looked after, they will literally die!”

“I’m not an idiot, I know they need looking after. It’s just that by the time you’re done with them there’s nothing left for me. We barely ever have sex, and when we do, I can tell you’d rather be sleeping.”

“Wow!”

“I’ve offered to get you help . . .”

“I don’t want a nanny!”

“Why not? Most women would kill for a nanny.”

“I’m not most women.”

“Don’t I know it.”

“Do you know why I don’t want to have sex with you, Guy?”

There was no answer.

“Because I don’t know where you’ve been!”

Nory felt the color drain out of her face.

Guy tried an approximation of a laugh of ridicule, but it came out like a frightened squeak. “What are you talking about? You’re delusional, Cam. It’s all in your head!”

The color flooded back into Nory’s cheeks. Was he actually going to gaslight his wife? Ameerah put a steadying hand on Nory’s arm.

“No, Guy, it isn’t all in my head. It’s mostly in your trousers. I was hoping you had enough decency to be honest with me, but apparently, you’d rather call me delusional than admit to it. Our problems have got nothing to do with the children. And nothing to do with my being tired. They have everything to do with you. I’ll see you back in London. We can decide what we’re going to do when you get back after the wedding.”