The guard pulled our neighbour back from his girlfriend. ‘You know the rules, Rigger,’ he said.

‘Yeah, all right, geezer.’ The man winked at me and stretched leisurely. ‘You can’t blame a man for trying.’ I saw he had LOVE and HATE tattooed on his plump inner arms.

‘Bastard,’ the girl said, just loud enough for the warder to hear, tossing her hair over her shoulder. The warder squared his shoulders, choosing to ignore her.

‘James, tell me.’ I looked back at my husband. ‘Who was Katya?’

James gazed at me and in that moment I felt the years drop away and I saw the boy I had met at university, that hopeful lively boy with a sense of fun, a graffitied guitar slung over his back, and I fought down a sudden urge to rail against our situation. I saw the emotions fighting across his face. There was so much I obviously didn’t know about my husband, so much I hadn’t looked for or he had kept hidden; and I saw that he looked young and vulnerable and almost like he used to. Like I could put my trust in him again.

‘I’m sorry, Rose,’ he whispered, and his voice cracked.

‘So … ?’ I held my breath.

‘So – so she was my girlfriend. Well, not girlfriend.’ This time he reached for my hand, but I moved too fast for him. I couldn’t bear his touch right now. ‘Lover, I suppose.’

‘How romantic.’ It was too late for recriminations. I took a deep breath. ‘Liam says she was a whore.’

‘He did, did he?’ James sat back. His face closed up again. ‘Well, he would. He was jealous.’

I looked dispassionately down on James, as if I was out of my body. How bizarre our life had become: my husband and I sitting in prison, discussing whether his business partner was jealous of the girl James had apparently been sleeping with.

‘Why jealous?’ Liam might not be the next Brad Pitt – ‘Liams are always mingers’ was the joke between us when we’d met first – but he had no trouble whatsoever attracting women.

James shrugged. ‘I’m sorry, Rose, but she was gorgeous. You saw that. Any bloke would …’ He caught my eye and trailed off. It only affirmed everything I’d guessed James felt about my exhausted body since I’d had the kids. I stayed at home, he cavorted with young dancers and the like. I looked back at James, who seemed utterly bashful. ‘Well, you know.’