I search his face for any sign of him knowing more than he’s letting on, but there’s only utter confusion etched there.

‘I honestly don’t know,’ I say.

‘So this is the guy you were in the hotel with,’ he asks, holding the credit card in the air.

I nod.

‘So why did you tell me you were at Shelley’s?’ he snaps, as if suddenly remembering why this all started.

‘Why didn’t you tell me you’d seen me?’ I bite back.

‘I didn’t know how to,’ he says, his shoulders slumping. ‘I thought you were having an affair with him and was still working out what to do about it.’

‘Why would you even think I’d do something like that?’

‘Because he’s living in our flat,’ he barks. ‘Though for some reason, you didn’t see the need to tell me. And then you’re in a hotel together . . .’

‘We weren’t in a hotel together,’ I sigh. ‘We were in a hotel bar.’

‘Looking all cosy,’ he says, bitterness still lingering in his voice.

‘How did you even know I was there?’ I ask.

‘I followed you,’ he says.

‘But you were supposed to be in Birmingham . . .’ I start, before it dawns on me. ‘Did you even go to Birmingham?’

He looks at the floor sheepishly.

‘So there wasn’t an issue with the lanterns?’

He shakes his head. ‘I knew he was in the flat, I saw the way you were together in the house that morning, and I wanted to see what would happen if I wasn’t here. And as I suspected, you went straight to the hotel the minute my back was turned.’

‘He called me in a panic,’ I say. ‘He told me his wife had found out where he was and he needed my help.’

‘From what I could see, he looked like he wanted more than your help.’

‘What did you see?’ I ask, imagining it through his eyes. Though the eye of the CCTV was bad enough.

‘He looked like a puppy dog,’ he says, grimacing. ‘Drooling and pawing at you.’

‘He was drunk,’ I offer in Jacob’s defence. ‘And he had confused our professional relationship with being something more. But we’ve got a bigger problem than that.’

Leon looks at me with raised eyebrows.

‘The police have emails,’ I say.

‘What kind of emails?’ asks Leon, his voice thick with suspicion.

‘They say they’re from me to him, but they’re not. I’ve never sent him an email, nor has he ever sent me one. They’re supposedly me proclaiming my love for him.’

The way Leon looks at me sends shivers down my spine.

‘And threatening him when he doesn’t reciprocate,’ I almost whisper.

An involuntary spasm pulsates in his jaw and he locks eyes with me.

‘What the fuck is going on here, Naomi?’