She felt as if she’d been Tasered. Here she was, standing in her village shop, a mere three minutes’ walk from her house and her husband, talking to the man with whom she’d enjoyed clandestine, abandoned sex. ‘You can’t be here,’ she said, desperately. ‘I can’t be seen talking to you.’

He frowned, but did not speak, did not move.

‘Please … please, Jared. Don’t do this.’

When he didn’t instantly disappear and stop the nightmare, she took a steadying breath. ‘OK, listen. Meet me at the windmill …’ she was trying to calm her delirious brain enough to remember what she and Devan had planned for today ‘… about eleven thirty? It’s only five minutes away.’ She didn’t wait for him to agree, or explain which windmill or where. She just fled the shop, Stacy from the pub holding the door for her on his way in.

‘Hey, how’s it going?’ he said, with a cheerful grin.

‘Yeah, good. Sorry, in a bit of a rush, Stacy.’ She shot past him and ran to her door, not daring to look back and see if Jared had followed her. It felt as if she’d been gone ten years, but the house was quiet, Devan still in the shower – she could hear the growl of the pump. Plonking the bread and the paper on the table, she sank into a chair, trying to control the trembling in her limbs.

A moment later, she realized the shower had stopped. She quickly got to her feet and opened the fridge for the eggs, milk and grapefruit juice. It was Saturday: they would have their usual scrambled eggs. She laid the table mechanically, unaware of her actions. Riley bounded into the kitchen and came snuffling around her, but she gently pushed him away. Devan mustn’t suspect anything’s wrong, she told herself, as she boiled the kettle and broke eggs into the Pyrex mixing bowl. Attempting to rearrange her agitated face, she stretched her mouth and squeezed her eyes shut, shaking her head from side to side as if to dislodge her panic.

She heard her husband’s tread on the stairs and held her breath, not turning as he came in and walked straight across to where she stood, putting his arms around her and nuzzling her neck.

‘That was superb,’ he said, chuckling to himself as he let her go and stretched up his linked hands to the ceiling, loudly cracking his knuckles. ‘Great start to the day.’

‘Hmm …’ She smiled but went on whisking the already thoroughly beaten eggs. When she swung round to the stove the butter was nearly burned, and she snatched it off the heat with a curse.

‘Think I’ll do the supermarket after breakfast,’ Connie said, as she spread her toast and ground pepper over her eggs, although her appetite had deserted her.