‘But he’s not been made redundant,’ Robyn confirmed, interrupting her. ‘Well, that’s great! Oh my goodness, that’s such a load off my mind.’ She found herself laughing out loud like an idiot. ‘I’ve been so worried, I can’t tell you.’

‘No, Robyn, the thing is—’ Gabrielle broke off, as if it was hard to get the words out. ‘The thing is, he has lost his job,’ she said eventually.

What? Robyn couldn’t keep up. First he was redundant and then he wasn’t, and now . . . Suddenly it dawned on her what Gabrielle was trying to convey, in her polite, embarrassed way, and her stomach gave a lurch. ‘Wait – are you telling me John was sacked? Is that what you mean?’

‘Er,’ said Gabrielle, clearly wishing she had never picked up the phone. ‘Well, um . . .’ A small sigh came down the line. ‘Yes, actually, Robyn. I’m sorry.’

Robyn swallowed, her mouth dry. ‘Are you sure?’ she asked faintly. ‘Are you absolutely sure?’ Sacked, she kept thinking. There was no fat pay-off when you were sacked, was there? There was nothing, not even a good reference, she realized, turning cold. What had he done to get sacked?

‘I’m sorry,’ Gabrielle said again and, give her credit, she did sound very apologetic. It was almost as if she could see Robyn leaning like a dead weight against the kitchen counter with her legs on the verge of giving way.

‘Can I . . . can I ask why?’ Robyn whimpered after a moment. John, sacked. Yes, actually, Robyn. She still couldn’t believe it. He was so good! He was so clever and competent! His students had done really well in their exams, he’d been positively jubilant when the results were posted. This didn’t make sense!

‘I’m afraid I can’t tell you that,’ Gabrielle replied after an awkward pause. ‘Listen, I’ve got calls backing up here. Do you want me to transfer you to anybody else or . . . ?’

‘No,’ Robyn said, gulping back a sob. ‘No. Thank you. You’ve been very helpful. Goodbye.’ She clicked off the call and stayed frozen there, in the middle of her lovely kitchen, surrounded by their wedding crockery and nicest wine glasses, and the cookery books on the shelf. They’d built this life together, she and John, ever since that first fortuitous meeting in a lecture theatre. But what was the next line in their story? Where did they go from here?

She shut her eyes, scared and worried. Alarmed by the fact that John hadn’t told her the truth, that he had been keeping secret upon secret from her. And then she remembered Beth Broadwood’s face – that look of pity as she spoke to Robyn in the playground. Pity because of the redundancy, she’d thought before. But now she couldn’t help wondering what, exactly, the other woman knew.

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Twelve

‘May I fetch you some lunch?’