‘You seemed so brittle.’

‘Maybe I was. But brittle people can go to pieces. Anyway, I’ve gone off the whole idea of men.’

‘I’ll remind you of that when you meet someone.’

‘You’ll have to wait an awfully long time.’

Walking home arm in arm, Irene said again: ‘You knew, didn’t you?’

‘How many times do I have to tell you …?’

‘You knew.’

The atmosphere between them changed.

‘Irene, please. You’re behaving like a mad woman.’

‘Maybe I am a mad woman.’

‘What good do you think it does, hunting everything down like this?’

‘Cut the crap. Just tell me you knew.’

‘OK.’ Karen stopped dead, took her arm out of Irene’s, and looked straight at her. ‘I knew. Not at first, and not the details, but yes, I knew. I knew and I hated knowing and didn’t tell you because it wasn’t my secret to tell and I thought it would all blow over and you wouldn’t be harmed. And later, I didn’t tell you because I knew you’d feel I’d betrayed you somehow by not telling you earlier. There. Does that make you feel better?’

‘No. But at least I know. That’s what I want. I don’t want to be patronized and protected. I want to know.’

They walked on in silence, apart.

How do you change, she said to herself in the mirror – the only person she could talk to any more who would have the faintest idea what she was going on about. How do you change and grow and let the world mark you and shape you, and yet at the same time stay married? How can two people do that: choose love and yet choose freedom, choose safety and yet pursue adventure? Hmm? She stared at herself, hands on her hips and eyebrows raised. That’s the big question for all of us. How? Tell me. I badly need to know. The face stared back, giving nothing away.

‘Steve, this is Irene. Irene, Steve.’

Lisa’s bright rushed introduction before she disappeared back into the kitchen made Irene’s heart sink. Oh God, she’d finally agreed to come over for dinner, and here she was being introduced to a suitable fucking man: Steve with a high forehead and thick black hair and a nervous way of fiddling with the neck of his shirt. His wife had probably just run off with his best friend, and they were supposed to sit next to each other and talk about it. A furious thudding started up in her head; she could hardly breathe for the hot vexation inside her.

‘Hi,’ she said shortly.

‘Hello.’ He held out a hand and squeezed her fingers. ‘I work with Gordon. It’s very nice to meet you. I’ve heard of you from Karen and Mac.’

‘Oh,’ she said. ‘Well then.’

He ploughed on stoically. ‘Only good things, I assure you.’