‘I hope this isn’t any more of your nonsense, Caroline. You need to think about the consequences. For the children. For all of us. If you’ve got that bag, give it back to him. I’ll call you tomorrow.’

The children. She’s complicit in this. Every time I think about what happened I start to cry. I feel delirious with grief. She gets to see my beautiful children every day and I can only watch them from a distance. I do, though, I make sure I see them every day that I can, even the bad days. The more I think about it, the more I realise that I need to do something about it. It’s not right or fair. And I miss them more than life itself.

So I close the journal and open my laptop. I check my Facebook messages and check your page, as I do every day. You’re absolutely unable to make your Facebook private because who would worship you then? You need the adulation, clearly. You’ll have weighed it up carefully. The chances of someone – me – stalking you against the opportunity to tell everyone how wonderful you are and how perfect your new life is. A no-brainer.

Naturally, I click on your friends list and slowly, letter by letter, type in Christine Dearden. There she is. Staring lovingly into her husband’s eyes on their wedding day in her profile picture. I try another one. She’s there too, with her three kids. I open the journal again and look through your list for most of your ex-girlfriends. All spectators to the demise of our marriage, which they contributed to.

Still wishing you Happy Birthday Jack and still liking your posts. Whereas I was barred from your life. Julie Carson lives in a beautiful architect-designed home. Spotless white. She’s a marketing director. I wonder if their husbands know what they did? Had an affair with a married man? Slept with you in the full knowledge that you had a wife? There’s no reason why they shouldn’t know. They made me suffer, so why shouldn’t they suffer now?

High Fidelity. You like that. You like the premise. But, like you said, there’s too many of them. Well, how would you like it if I helped you out, Jack? If I hunted down each of your exes and made them aware of how much I had suffered?