Lust is not a noble emotion. I drove home at dawn, sick with a new feeling I couldn’t admit; sick with missing my children. In the fast lane of the motorway I opened the window, in need of fresh air. Sunlight slid down the sky before me; the watery golden shafts disappeared into the trees and I had a sudden vision of walking up them, escaping into the clouds through that letterbox of light.

Lust may not be noble – but it was quickly turning to something else. Something I couldn’t seem to rein in.

I shook my head. I needed coffee.

All the lights were on in the house.

‘Hello?’ I called.

There was a thump from upstairs; the old floorboards creaked.

‘McCready?’ I was confused. The cat shot through the banisters, making me jump. McCready must have arrived early.

A door slammed shut.

‘Where the fuck have you been?’ My husband stood at the top of the stairs, hair on end, in his pyjama trousers.

My mind began to bang down dead ends like a fly against glass. ‘God, you scared me,’ my voice sounded hoarse. ‘I thought you were in Vietnam?’

‘I was. It went so well, the deal was done – I came home again to celebrate. You said you didn’t want to be left.’

I’d never said that.

‘Only you weren’t here.’ He looked down reprovingly.

‘I went to see Xav about the Kattan story.’

‘Not that again,’ James snarled, starting down the stairs. ‘I told you to leave it, didn’t I?’

‘What are you so cross about?’ I walked away from him, thinking, trying to make it add up, into the kitchen. I put the kettle on, throwing my coat onto a chair, checking myself quickly in the mirror. I was pale, my hair tangled and messy, last night’s make-up smudged beneath my eyes. ‘Xav and I went for cocktails last night. It was too late to drive back, and I was pissed.’

James followed me into the room. ‘You don’t get pissed.’

‘Not often, no.’

‘You never get pissed,’ he repeated, staring at me. ‘Not since—’ He stopped. We eyed each other like boxers in the ring, waiting to see who would take the first jab.

‘Well, I just felt like it for once,’ I shrugged. ‘No kids, no husband. Why not?’

‘And where are the bloody kids? I’ve been looking forward to seeing them.’ He was petulant as a small child.

‘They’re at my mum’s. You know that. She’s bringing them back this afternoon.’

‘How convenient,’ he muttered.

‘What’s that meant to mean?’ I asked, chucking PG Tips into the teapot. I would not lose my temper. ‘It’s the first time since the twins were born that they’ve stayed there without me. It’s a treat.’

‘For who?’