Was she really packing a bag to leave behind her life and everyone who meant anything to her? She felt helpless. She refused to believe this would be the end of her marriage – surely that wasn’t possible – but she knew now was not the time to fight for it. Devan needed space and she would give it to him. Although all she wanted to do was shove the suitcase onto the floor and climb into bed, go to sleep and pretend none of the events of the last twelve hours – the last seven months, indeed – had ever taken place. Wake to find everything the same as before that first treacherous kiss.

Flopping back on the duvet, she closed her eyes. Where is Jared? She’d told him she planned to tell Devan, but she might well have changed her mind, for all he knew. What will he do when he finds out his cover is blown? She shuddered at what a confrontation with her husband might look like. He can’t know where I’ve gone. Then she gave a sad laugh. She didn’t know where she was going either. Or for how long.

Exhausted, Connie slept, lying on her back and waking to a wrenching cramp in her stomach. Glancing at the bedside clock, she realized she’d been asleep for nearly an hour. Rain was pounding the windows and the bedroom was chilly. She dragged herself to her feet in a daze and reluctantly zipped her case shut.

I’ll drive to a hotel for the night, somewhere I can rest, take stock. Then she remembered, with a jolt, that they had only the one car. Her trusty, rusting Fiat 500 had died a death two years before and they hadn’t bothered to replace it, as her current job meant she didn’t need to drive to an office every day. She could hardly add to Devan’s indignities by leaving him stranded in the village, with only an hourly bus for transport. She reached for her mobile, hidden in the folds of the duvet, then put it down again, thought for another couple of minutes, finally lifting it and punching in a number.

‘What’s happening, darling?’ Neil’s voice was full of concern. ‘Devan was off his head last night.’

‘He still is,’ she said grimly. ‘Listen, could you drive me to Weston?’ Connie was surprised at how matter-of-fact she sounded.

‘Weston? Why? Where are you going?’ Neil asked.

‘London,’ she said. ‘I can’t ask Devan.’

‘Where are you going to in London?’

‘Umm, a friend.’

There was silence. ‘A friend? Which friend, Connie?’ Pause. ‘I don’t like the sound of this. Where are you really going? You’re not running off with him, are you?’