When she finally heard the front door open early in the evening, and the scuffing of Riley’s paws on the wood floor, she was showered and as composed as was possible in the circumstances. She steeled herself for the blank indifference that seemed currently to be Devan’s default position, her body tense as she put aside the local paper – merely a prop, her thoughts had been drifting elsewhere all afternoon – and took a sip from the mug of mint tea, long since gone cold.

Devan’s face appeared round the kitchen door. Even with all that had happened, Connie felt a momentary pleasure at the familiarity of his handsome face. But his expression as he said a soft ‘Hi,’ was hard to read. She eyed him cautiously as he came into the room and took a seat opposite her.

‘Sorry I missed the pick-up. Only just got your messages,’ he said.

Connie bent to greet Riley, burying her face in his furry brown neck and fighting off his eager tongue with a laugh. It gave her a moment to catch her breath. ‘Didn’t matter, I got a taxi OK.’

When she straightened up, Devan was gazing at her. ‘Can we talk?’ he said.

It was a strange question for a husband to ask a wife, and Connie felt a frisson of alarm. Is he going to say he doesn’t love me any more? Her heart was pounding. He seemed so serious, his hands on the table fiddling nervously as he rubbed hard at a spot on his index finger. She waited. He didn’t speak for what seemed a long time. She could almost see the words bunching on his tongue.

‘I know things have been shit between us for a while now,’ Devan began eventually, ‘and that’s partly my fault.’ He twitched his eyebrows in an apologetic half-smile.

Surprised by his opener and still nervous, Connie dithered in her response, wondering where this was leading. He was talking again.

‘It’s been weird … not sure how to explain … but I had a serious crisis after you left this time, Connie. I was so low, lower than I can remember being my whole life.’ His head, previously bowed, lifted, his eyes finding hers. He hesitated before going on. ‘I feel like we’ve been locked in separate rooms recently. Like I’ve lost you … and all sense of myself too.’ He took a long breath. Connie did not interrupt: she was too moved by his words, and the obvious bewilderment in his eyes. ‘It was bad. I barely got out of bed. I wasn’t even drinking, just lying there, doing nothing … crying a lot.’ He gave her a rueful grin. ‘Pathetic, I know.’

‘Devan …’

He held up his hand to stop her. ‘Please, let me finish. It’s been going round and round in my head, all this, and I want to get it out.’