‘Really? At least I was there for her birth!’

‘That’s kind of obligatory,’ Perry smirked, a point won. The only reason he hadn’t been present was that the car had broken down, but Mel had taken umbrage, as if he had done it deliberately. Mel’s counter-attack had taken him by surprise. She seemed to be even angrier than he was. ‘I cook her meals, I clear up after her, I talk to her about her problems, which is more than you ever do,’ she shouted.

Unsure how he had so quickly been forced back on the defensive, Perry returned to the main line of attack, stabbing his finger for emphasis. ‘Who is he, then, this lover of yours?’

‘I’m not telling you. Actually, he could be anybody, John. I’m so starved of affection, I made a pass at the Ocado lad, but he ran away back to his delivery van.’

Perry flexed his fists, bewildered at what was happening to him. ‘You used our daughter’s bedroom, so that if you got caught I’d blame her. That is pretty low.’

‘I always change the sheets, like a good caring mum. Well, I would have done if you’d given me a few minutes.’

Was she really blaming him for coming home? ‘I can’t believe I’m hearing this,’ he yelled. ‘How long has this been going on?’

She turned round to him, her lips twisted in anticipation. ‘A long time. Before we moved here.’

‘What!’

‘Yes. I got us to move here so it would be easier and more convenient for me to see him.’ She folded her arms and watched him. So how do you like that, then?

Perry was speechless. He hadn’t even wanted to leave their previous home, a tidy two-bedroom 1930s terrace, which they could easily afford. They had moved in here eighteen months ago. Now here he was in hock up to the neck for a flimsy new build. And it was all to facilitate her ongoing affair. ‘I want to know exactly how long this has been going on, Mel’ He seized her by the arms, gripping her tightly enough so that it would hurt. ‘I want to know how long!’

She smiled. ‘A good eight inches, since you ask. And quite thick with it.’

An involuntary snarl tore across Perry’s face, his arm raised itself, fist clenched. When it comes to inflicting pain, a spiteful woman is a match for any man. Less power maybe, but unerring accuracy.

Some cooler and detached part of him now recognised what was going on. She was goading him to hit her, something he had never done to any woman. Or man, come to think of it. Her closed-eyed expression was one of a saint, waiting to be validated by crucifixion. That was what she wanted, he could see it now. If he nailed her with a punch, the exit strategy would kick in. Of course. He was being stupid. He’d only just discovered her infidelity, but her plan for a divorce, mentioned first a couple of years ago, was obviously simmering nicely. And thinking about it, it was a pretty solid plan. She’d get the house, but he’d have to continue to pay for most of it. Of course if he hit her and she pressed charges, he’d lose his job too. In fact, he was trussed up like a turkey. The deliberately lost evidence file, at her insistence, meant she had the whip hand over him in every way. An anonymous call to Crime Stoppers would do the trick. If he touched her, he was lost.