Without thinking, I went into the kitchen to make myself a cup of tea before I unpacked. Of course there wasn’t anything there. I’d have to start again and buy a kettle and some mugs. Even teaspoons. I thought of my kitchen at home, crammed with food processors and three sets of cutlery, the cleaners and scrubbers under the sink, the tea towels neatly arranged in the cupboards, the copper-bottomed pans that hung from the hooks on the wall, the knife sets, the recipe books, and the china, the lovely china I’d collected over the years. The happiest days of my marriage had been spent in that room, alone.

This small grubby flat was so far from where I thought I’d be living that I could hardly make sense of it. I should be with Harry today, looking at apartments with him. Moving in with him, christening our new bed. We’d even chosen the bed we’d buy, had looked at tons of them and had made a decision on one. He’d bookmarked it online and said that ordering the bed would be the first thing we’d do when we were together. My mouth tightened. He’d be okay, I knew that, wherever he was. Sarah had said he was on holiday for a week. Were they on a beach somewhere right now as though all was well in the world? Would he leave Emma lying on a recliner in the sun and go down to swim in the sea, thinking about me and the narrow escape he’d had? Perhaps he’d run back up the beach toward her and shake cold water over her hot tanned body so that she’d shriek, then take her hand and chase her back to their room.

I shuddered. He’d told me they hadn’t slept together for a long time and I’d believed him. I was such an idiot. I knew if I told a friend about our affair, they’d say he was having his cake and eating it, that faced with the reality of leaving his lovely home, he’d chosen the easy way out. And I knew that was true—I was almost sure of it—but when I thought of his face that Friday evening, just when I said good-bye, he looked so happy and smiling and . . . well, I was going to say trustworthy but that probably isn’t the right word, given he was cheating on his wife.

I went to the bathroom and splashed water on my face. I couldn’t afford to get upset now. I’d wanted to leave Tom; I’d thought of it for years. And now I’d left him. I needed to cope with that, rather than thinking about what might have been.

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