‘What text?’

‘To Evan.’

‘At the practice?’ Lydia says in surprise.

‘Yeah – he –’

‘He’s in charge, right?’

Lydia stares at Joe. He is so obviously thinking on his feet. She raises her hands, palms to him. ‘I don’t deal with liars,’ she says. ‘Get your story straight.’

‘No, no,’ Joe says, panic crossing his features, turning down his mouth, drawing together his brows like he is a cartoon of himself. She’s shocked him. He once called her ruthless, and she’s never forgotten. ‘You have to become ruthless in my situation,’ she’d told him icily. When you are forced to cut off your parents, no other subsequent separation is as difficult. All around Lydia, she notices people putting up with things, settling, living alongside people who make them miserable, and she swears that will never be her.

‘How can you say that to me?’ he says.

Lydia feels a stab of guilt. It’s fair to say that Joe is her ally in life, has never given her reason to doubt him. Doesn’t have a phone passcode; it contains only photo albums full of dogs and cats anyway – he takes a photograph of every animal he cures, adding them to an album called Homeward Bound.

‘I promise,’ he says now. ‘It was Evan.’ He rubs at his forehead. ‘Sorry. The practice is – I didn’t want to worry you.’

Lydia sits on their pillows, waiting for the explanation.

‘It’s struggling a bit – Evan’s had a … he’s fucked up. We’re deciding what to do about it.’

‘What’s he done?’

‘Just did an unnecessary procedure,’ Joe says.

‘Right. What did he do?’

‘Ultrasound because he knew the owners were rich.’

‘I see.’

‘Yeah, I mean, he shouldn’t have done it. He’s flat broke. And I won’t make him partner,’ Joe says, a small, self-deprecating smile sneaking out.

‘Why is he broke?’ she asks.

‘His divorce,’ Joe says. He’s edging more closely to her and, God, she can’t resist this man. He smells of musk and sun and he accepts her exactly – exactly – as she is, empties the bathroom bin each week of its many pregnancy tests, only smiling wryly, not saying anything at all. She feels high on the relief of this, that the text is nothing. Thank God for nothing! ‘He actually got a second job, a delivery driver. I think his wife really stung him on maintenance.’

‘Oh, wow.’ She smiles at him, shifting closer. And it is then that he does it: he angles his phone just slightly away from her. A tiny movement she wouldn’t usually notice.

‘Can I see your phone, please?’ she asks. She tries to breathe deeply, not let herself get suckered by this man who loves animals and her.

‘See what?’

‘Your phone.’ She holds out a palm, flat, expectant.

Joe looks exactly like somebody who doesn’t want to give his phone to his wife. His body turns away from her again, physically curling in on itself like somebody with stomach pains.