‘I’m not going to do this now,’ he says dismissively. ‘I’ve got enough to deal with.’

The strain of everything he’s trying to juggle is evident by his furrowed brow and wide eyes. He looks like a rabbit caught in headlights and I wonder for the first time whether he’s taken on too much. Not helped by me.

‘Is there anything I can do?’ I ask. ‘If you just point me in the right direction . . .’

He shakes his head. ‘Haven’t we got house guests this afternoon?’

‘Yes, but not until early evening. Anna’s gone shopping to get the bits she and the children need, to save her from going back to the house.’

His jaw spasms. ‘And we’re supposed to continue this charade of everything being fine between us all the time she’s here, are we?’

‘It’s just a couple of days,’ I say. ‘Let’s get the weekend over and done with, and then we can sit down when we’re less stressed and talk everything through.’

He nods tightly and goes to walk away, but I grab his hand, forcing him to turn back and look at me.

‘I do love you,’ I say, as tears instantly spring to my eyes.

‘I love you too,’ he says, though it sounds as if he’s got a gun to his head.

As I begin to walk back in the direction of the cottage, there’s a tap on the microphone that booms around the site.

‘Testing, testing,’ comes a voice, so close that the speakers screech.

I can’t help but flinch at the unwelcome sound penetrating my fragile eardrums.

I instinctively turn to see a man standing on the stage, looking as if he’s living out all his teenage fantasies.

‘He-llo Tattenhall!’ he yells, before smiling as if imagining a raucous response. ‘I’d like to pretend that I’m about to launch into “Smells Like Teen Spirit”, but unfortunately all I have to offer is a credit card I’ve just found over there.’ He points to the area of long grass that runs into the coppice I’m walking towards. ‘So if you or someone you know is called . . . Michael Talbot—’

My ears shut off any sound. My feet stop moving. He couldn’t have said what I thought he said. But as I shake my head, trying to banish the fragments of doubt, the man on stage only serves to compound them.

‘So no takers?’ he booms. ‘Well, OK then, but if the elusive Michael Talbot doesn’t claim it soon, I’ll be heading to the pub with it after work and the drinks are on me.’