I could feel my blood pressure rise at the thought of not having a home or a job. I needed somewhere to live. I couldn’t stay in the hotel for much longer. When he booked it, Harry had paid for a week and I couldn’t afford to stay there much longer once that time was up.

“I’ll book it for the week and then see how it goes,” he’d said. “We’ll look out for an apartment straightaway. We can rent while we’re deciding where to buy.” He’d sent me some links to huge riverside apartments in Liverpool, others with views over the River Dee. “What do you think of these? They’re all available immediately.”

I thought of them now, those split-level warehouse lofts with their Scandinavian lighting and on-site gyms and twenty-four-hour concierges. What was all that about, tempting me with luxury living then dumping me without warning? That was another thought to add to the burning sense of injustice I’d felt over the last few days. Then my phone beeped again with another message from Tom.

We didn’t have the chance to talk about money before you left. I’ve transferred some to your savings account. Let me know if you need more x

I frowned. He knew my savings account was in name only. I’d had to borrow from him in the past, so he’d known I didn’t have a stash of money. Then my phone beeped with yet another message from him. He was messaging me more now than when we were together. It surprised me; I’d thought he’d ignore me.

I hope you’re OK x

I sat back on the armchair and held a cushion to my chest, watching the cars passing by. I started to think about Tom and where it had all gone wrong. It was hard to reconcile the man I’d met with the man I’d left, but now I saw the man I’d loved and married emerge again. But then those thoughts disappeared as I remembered the last time I’d seen Harry. Was he just stringing me along? Had he sent me those apartment links knowing we’d never live there and that I would have burned my bridges at home? He knew I had no money! He had to know I’d be homeless. I thought of him coming back from his holiday, of his face falling when he saw someone else at my desk. He’d be furious when he realized I’d been fired.

I tried his number again but stopped when I heard him say, “Hi.” I didn’t leave a message. I wouldn’t do that. I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

Later, I realized that Tom’s messages were on WhatsApp and he would have seen that I’d read them. I sent him a brief message:

Thanks.