He stopped speaking and swallowed hard. I hoped he wasn’t going to start weeping and wailing. ‘That was her own fault for the way she attacked me at Christmas,’ I replied, knowing that in that respect at least, I had right on my side. ‘And she hasn’t exactly tried to make it up to me since. No, considering how strained our relationship is now, I definitely think Surrey is the best option.’ I adopted a decisive tone that made it clear that I wasn’t going to change my mind. There was no way I was moving to live so close to his mum now and that was that.

Ben pursed his lips. I could tell he was thinking about arguing but he seemed to have run out of energy and drove in virtual silence for the rest of the journey, giving just one-syllable answers to my questions. In the end, I gave up and decided to have a little sleep instead. The wine I had drunk had made me drowsy because I was so unused to it.

After we arrived home at the flat in London, I put Elodie straight to bed, then returned to the kitchen to find Ben sitting at the kitchen table, nursing a glass of red wine and looking deep in thought. I took a glass out of the cupboard and poured myself a glass of iced water. It felt good to have got today over with and I tapped my glass against Ben’s. ‘Well, cheers!’ I said, giving him an encouraging smile.

Ben lifted his glass without enthusiasm and refused to meet my eye.

‘Oh come on, Ben. Please stop sulking.’ I was running out of patience with him.

‘I’m not,’ he said, his voice choked. ‘I’m just upset. I still can’t believe that Dad has gone. That I’ll never, ever see him again. That Elodie won’t know him growing up. It all just makes me feel unbearably sad.’

I didn’t want to dwell on Peter’s absence from Elodie’s life, for reasons that Ben would never understand. ‘Well, she won’t know mine either, so we’re sort of even, aren’t we?’

‘Good God, Bella, it’s not a competition!’

My mouth dropped open in shock. I couldn’t believe how insolent he was being. ‘I never said it was. Stop putting words into my mouth.’

Ben tutted and shook his head.

An unstoppable tidal wave of rage swept over me. ‘Don’t you dare tut at me! I’ve had just about enough of this shit!’

‘Well, that makes two of us!’

I didn’t remember doing it. I didn’t remember the glass leaving my hand. I just remember watching, as if from above, as the glass hit the wall above Ben’s head and exploded in a beautiful, iridescent shower of fragments. Then, as if in slow motion, I was pulling at his hair and pummelling his body with a strength that came from somewhere deep inside. Every blow seemed to encapsulate all my hurt at Peter’s betrayal.

Ben’s arms were up, as he tried to defend himself. ‘Stop it, Bella!’ he was yelling but I couldn’t hear him. It was as if I was underwater, with everything happening in muffled, slow motion.