Beth lunges for the phone before Simon can see the name flashing up on her screen. It’s an alias of course, but she still doesn’t want him to ask who Eddie is. She’s a good liar normally, but she’s too frazzled to put on a competent performance this evening. Her fingers are shaking again, but she manages to press the red button on her iPhone to cancel the call and slide it away from Simon’s eyeline.

‘Who was that?’ he asks, without a hint of suspicion; their marriage is too solid for that. The interruption seems to have dampened his lustful intentions too, and Beth feels relief and disappointment battle inside her. Relief that she doesn’t have to touch his skin in her current mood, but disappointment that he’s not pushing harder for it. She knows every good marriage needs a healthy sex life, and it’s not like this is the only sacrifice she makes.

‘One of those 0800 numbers,’ she answers. ‘Probably someone trying to sell me life insurance.’

‘Maybe they’ve heard about your new celebrity status,’ Simon says with a chuckle. ‘And think your life is more valuable now.’

‘Or perhaps they think I’m more in need of insurance,’ Beth whispers, more to herself than to her husband, thinking about the angry young man outside the shop.

‘Sorry, what was that?’

She looks up and smiles. Takes a deep breath. She can do this, she thinks; perhaps it will even distract her. ‘Nothing.’ Then she lowers her voice to a purr and nods at the half-drunk bottle of Cremant in the ice bucket. ‘Shall we finish that upstairs?’

Simon’s face spreads into a beam, his desire back in an instant, and he takes Beth’s hand again. He leans over and kisses her gently on the lips. He tastes of toothpaste and ethanol, a reassuring combination, and Beth finds herself searching for more. Perhaps this will be fine after all, she thinks, as he gently guides her out of the spotless kitchen, up the stairs, and onto the perfectly made bed.

Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Kat

Kat reluctantly peels off her fleece. She knows she’ll be hot soon, that her face will go bright red and sweat will drip from every pore. But right now, the garage is so cold that she can see the eerie glow of her breath in the gloom. With her arms exposed, hundreds of almost-invisible hairs lift up, pulling Kat’s skin into miniature peaks. She swears, crosses her arms around her body and tries to rub some warmth into them.