When her father returned, there seemed no point in staying on in Toronto so they decided to fly straight back to New York that evening, which would give Marnie extra time at home. She could hardly wait to tell Christopher her news but had no intention of speaking to him while he was still with Louisa. She watched the time impatiently. She reckoned he might have left Louisa’s dinner party by eleven thirty, English time, but was disappointed to find his mobile still switched off, and left a message. When, much later, there had still been no call but she got his text, every suspicion was aroused. Unavoidable? Unexpected? Who did he think she was? She battled to keep hold of her embryonic experiment in trusting . . . and felt it slipping rapidly out of her grasp.

*

She went to bed but not to sleep. She tossed and turned, tried to read a book and gave up, turned the light on and off . . . and on and off . . . and tried unsuccessfully to switch her angry imagination off too; she padded along to the kitchen and made herself a hot drink. Then she picked up the phone.

At six o’clock in the morning she was just falling at last into an exhausted sleep when her mobile rang.

‘Marnie? Thank God I’ve got you at last.’

‘You’ve been trying so hard, of course. Where were you?’ she asked furiously.

‘Didn’t you get my text?’

‘I certainly did, though what the hell it meant I really don’t know. Your story sure better be good, Christopher.’

‘It is,’ he said tersely. ‘Look, darling Marnie . . .’

‘Don’t you darling me,’ she said unpleasantly. ‘Answer me one question. Did you spend the night with Louisa?’

‘You already know that I did.’ Christopher, in London, who had held out as long as he could bear in order not to disturb her in the middle of the night, felt his own temper starting to rise. ‘You rang to check up on me this morning, didn’t you? And you hadn’t even got the guts to speak when I answered.’ He struggled to calm down. ‘Look,’ he said, ‘it’s not at all what you think. Let’s not get into a confrontation. Yes, I spent the night at Louisa’s house, but for a very good reason which I’ll tell you all about when you come home.’

‘Why should I believe you?’

‘Because,’ he said disastrously, ‘I’m afraid you’ll just have to trust me for the moment.’