“You’re the one who wanted to sell the house. I didn’t see you dealing with it. I was just getting rid of things so that there wouldn’t be too much to do at the end.”

I walked toward him. I felt as though my head was about to burst. All I could feel was buzzing and tingling and I think he must have seen he’d gone too far, because he took a step back onto the landing to avoid me.

“You’ve thrown it out?” I knew my voice sounded weird. I was trying hard to breathe properly and when I spoke my voice was high-pitched and breathy.

He shrugged. “I’ve thrown a lot of stuff out.”

He had. And it was all my stuff.

By now my head was swimming. I took another step toward him. “But it wasn’t stuff. It was important to me. Private.”

“You never looked at it anyway.” He took another step backward. “It was just taking up space.”

For a moment I closed my eyes. I thought of the house and how, apart from the kitchen, you would never have known I lived there. This was something of mine and it was hidden from view, as were all my things. That box held my memories. He’d destroyed it, just as he’d tried to destroy me.

I had to say something. I had to. I’d been quiet for too long.

“I know you deleted my e-mail,” I said.

Shock flashed across his face. “Which e-mail?”

He wasn’t fooling me. “You know which one I mean.” I said nothing more but let the silence lay heavily in the air.

Then his face changed, became ugly and dark. All of his flattery disappeared and I could see what he really thought of me. I recoiled.

“Oh, Harry’s e-mail.” He mimicked Harry, then: “I’m so sorry, Ruby, but I can’t leave Emma. She’s pregnant and all I’ve ever wanted was a family. Yeah, I probably shouldn’t have deleted that.” He laughed. “Oh, and . . .”

“What?”

He shook his head, smiling at me. “You’ll find out soon enough.”

My heart pounded. I thought of him reading my e-mails, following my search for jobs, reading my draft e-mails to Harry that I’d never sent, telling him I loved him and needed him and would always be there for him. But that wasn’t what concerned me now.

My blood started to simmer. “That’s not all though, is it?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You came into my flat, didn’t you?”

He raised his eyebrows. “Are you having delusions again?”

“What? What do you mean?”

“Like all those times you thought you were pregnant.” Now he imitated me, his face twisted and hateful. “I know I’ve said this before, Tom, but I really think I am pregnant this time.”