‘There might be,’ I replied, adopting a casual tone and glancing down at my wedding ring. ‘Depends whether he’s home yet.’

Leo smiled and nodded his understanding. ‘Gotcha.’

As I left the flat, pushing Elodie in her pram along the hallway towards the lift, I pulled my phone out of my bag. I had one missed called from Ben and I felt a spike of relief. If there had been anything seriously wrong with Peter, he would have called more than once.

I stood in the lift, staring at myself in the mirrored walls, thinking about all the other times I had left this flat after an afternoon or evening of illicit sex. Today with Leo had been a fun distraction but still, even now, no one compared to Peter. I wondered if anyone ever would. There was something about him that just clicked for me and I still felt a physical ache for him, even after all this time.

Back home, I bathed Elodie and put her to bed, then had a long, hot shower myself, washing away all traces of Leo, just in case Ben came home without warning. As it seemed as if Peter was OK, there was no reason for him to stay overnight.

The phone rang, just as I was thinking of going to bed.

‘Ben?’ I said, wondering why he was calling, rather than just coming home. I hoped he hadn’t somehow found out what I’d been up to.

‘Yes.’ He sounded slightly tearful but not angry.

‘How is he?’

There was a weird pause and I could tell he was struggling to speak. My heart began to pound with alarm and I suddenly knew what he was going to say before he said it: ‘He’s dead. He died, Bella.’

‘What? Oh my God!’ I could barely breathe for shock. It just wasn’t possible. Peter was too young and fit to have died. My throat dried and a wave of genuine sorrow swept through my whole body, causing me to start shaking. ‘Jesus, I can’t believe it.’

‘I know. I’ve just arrived back at Mum and Dad’s—’ Ben stopped speaking abruptly.

There was a long silence as we both tried to digest what Ben had just said. For a fleeting moment, I wondered if he had found out the truth about me and Peter and was making it up to punish me but I dismissed it just as quickly. I could hear the raw grief in his voice.

‘Are you coming home?’ I didn’t want him to. I wanted him to stay away, so that I could process my own feelings without having to worry about him or comfort him in any way. I just didn’t have the strength to put on my usual Oscar-winning performance.

‘Not tonight,’ he replied and I exhaled with relief. ‘I need to stay here with Mum and Emma, to make sure they’re OK.’ Of course he did. His bloody mother would milk this for all it was worth, playing the grieving widow of a devoted husband and father. Only I knew the truth about him. Which was that he was about as far from devoted as it was possible to be. He was a liar and a cheat and a user, who had spent his whole life pretending to be something he wasn’t. But, despite all of that, I had loved the bastard.