‘And then,’ I go on, ‘I popped into Shelley’s for a cup of tea.’ A beat passes as I wait, with a sickening feeling in my stomach, for Leon to call me out. He knows that I would never just turn up at my friend’s front door on the other side of town unannounced. Especially given that I’d spent half an hour on the phone to her last night.

Yet he lets it go, and with it the expectation for me to elaborate any further.

‘So the traffic was good?’ I say unnecessarily.

He takes a mug out of the cupboard and I step aside as he comes towards the fridge for the milk.

‘I don’t suppose you want a tea, if you’ve just had one?’ he questions, in such a way that it makes me feel as if he has an eye into my soul.

I shake my head numbly, even though I’d like nothing more, if only to settle my nerves.

‘So, how’s Shelley doing?’ he asks, as he drains the teabag on the side of the cup and chucks it in the bin.

‘Good,’ I say, feeling as if my voice box is being squeezed. ‘Busy with work, but all good.’

‘So the dog hamper idea has taken off?’ he asks, referring to the new business she mooted in passing a few months ago.

‘Yes, it seems that every pet owner wants to treat their dog.’

He nods, but every fibre in my being feels as if he’s testing me and knows full well that I’m lying. I guess that’s what a guilty conscience does to you.

‘We should get something set up with her and Dave,’ he says. ‘We haven’t seen them since the choir competition.’

‘Mmm.’ I nod. ‘That would be nice.’

‘How is Dave?’ he asks. ‘Did you see him?’

‘No. So did you get everything you needed?’ I ask, desperate to change the subject.

He nods sombrely.

I go up to him and tuck myself under his arms. ‘I love you,’ I say, feeling a complicated mixture of relief and guilt. Relief that he’s home and that I don’t have to spend the night alone, and guilt that I’ve lied, and lied again, about something I should have been able to be honest about.

I kiss him to assuage both.

‘This reeks of a guilty conscience,’ he says, as if reading my mind. I pull back, saddened that I’m not able to kiss him without that being his first thought.

But he’s right, isn’t he? Still, I swallow the insult and nuzzle his neck, reaching for him through his trousers, though I can already feel his reticence.

‘Have you done something you shouldn’t have?’ he asks, tilting himself ever so slightly away from me.