For twelve years I’d managed to hide my feelings, but that moment was an exception. He saw my reaction and flushed a dark red. He started to speak, but then his phone rang and he picked it up, his eyes still on me.

“Hi, Gary.” I knew this was his boss at work. “Yeah, all good, thanks.” There was a pause, then he said, “Sure, do you want to go through it now?”

He reached out to grab a pen and paper from the coffee table, and I stood up and left the room. I could feel his eyes on me as I left. I could hear Tom talking and thought he’d be busy for a while. His boss wasn’t one for short conversations and it sounded as though Tom was going through some sales figures with him.

I had so many questions to ask him that I didn’t know where to start. I wanted to talk about him deleting Harry’s e-mail, to ask why he had hidden that from me. I wanted to ask him how he’d felt when he saw me drive off with my car full of bags, knowing I’d end up homeless. But really, that wasn’t what was important.

The thing I really wanted was to talk about him coming into my home. Trying to make me lose my mind. And then coming in at night, into my bedroom. Taking my scarf from my pillow as I slept. At the thought of that I felt breathless and faint. I wanted to confront him but I knew I shouldn’t. I was too angry.

While he chatted away to his boss, as though he hadn’t a care in the world, I went upstairs. I needed to calm down. To make myself think rationally. While I was here, I should take some more of my things. It would be autumn in a couple of months. I didn’t want to come back here until it was time to empty the house completely and that could be ages away.

I heard Tom move to the bottom of the stairs, clearly frustrated that he couldn’t tell me to get back downstairs.

I went into my bedroom. My old bedroom. Now it was Tom’s, of course. The suit he’d been wearing was on a wooden hanger on the back of the door and his black leather shoes were kicked into a corner. I avoided looking at the bed and went straight over to my section of the fitted wardrobes. Nothing of mine was there. Tom had taken over some of it, but the rest lay empty. I frowned. What had happened to the rest of my things? I opened the drawers I’d used since we’d had the house. I’d had to leave some clothes there when I left home. Now the drawers were all empty.