Riley would not leave her side. His frenzied barking and leaping and tail wagging had been the best reception she could have wished for. It broke the ice between her and Devan too – the car journey home being a polite, mostly silent affair – and made them both laugh harder than the situation merited. A welcome release of tension. Connie felt an almost euphoric surge of hope as she rubbed her hand over Riley’s coat. Home, she thought. I’m home at last.

They got fish and chips for supper. Devan lit a candle and placed it on the kitchen table. He produced a bottle of Prosecco from the fridge. There was a general air of quiet excitement between them as they ate. Connie wanted to know all the local gossip and Devan obliged, exaggerating his stories to make her laugh. His smile was the most charming, his blue eyes, as they rested on her, the most beguiling. All of it felt right … but also excruciating to Connie, in that she couldn’t trust how long the current mood would last.

Where will I sleep? she wondered, as she took another gulp of wine. Will we have sex? The notion, which in the past would have been so welcome, seemed like a huge hurdle to leap right now, knowing the images that currently plagued Devan’s mind. Fuelled by the alcohol, however, she was in the mood to push through, ignore Jared’s shade, and make love to her husband tonight, sleep in his arms. If they didn’t do it now, maybe they never would.

As time wore on, tired as she was, she avoided being the one to suggest they go up. But the evening began to lose its sparkle and eventually they fell silent, both, she imagined, faced with the same dilemma.

Devan finally stood up, blew out the candle. He began sweeping the chip bags and remains of the battered fish and mushy peas into the paper carrier bag from the fish shop, screwing it up tightly and throwing it into the black bin. Connie, from habit, was about to protest that the paper should be recycled, but she held her tongue. Planet survival was not her main concern tonight.

She got up, too, and returned the ketchup and malt vinegar to the cupboard, cleared away the glasses. The stems were too long to fit into the dishwasher so she rinsed them in the sink, resting them upside down on a tea towel on the draining-board. All in silence. Her heart was beating raggedly. Unable to bear the tension a moment longer, she swung round. Devan was fiddling with his phone, plugging it into the charger on the ledge by the kitchen door. Resting her hands on the counter-top behind her, she said, ‘What now?’ It wasn’t meant to sound aggressive, but she feared it had come out that way.