I looked around for my iPad. It had been my thirty-sixth birthday a few months before and Tom had bought it as a surprise. It was a newer version than his, though, and he used it more than I did. I remembered he’d charged it up the night before; he must have taken it on the train to London with him. It didn’t matter. He could have it. My pulse quickened. None of this mattered now.

I checked that the driveway was still clear and quickly ran upstairs. The bathroom looked just as it always did; I’d left everything that we both used. My toothbrush and toiletries were gone from their cabinet. I knew he’d note their absence. The linen cupboard was still full; I’d taken some of the bed linen and towels we used in the spare room, but intended to start afresh as soon as I could.

Our bedroom looked just the same, though of course as soon as Tom opened the drawers and closets he’d see the gaps. I couldn’t take everything, but it was pretty clear that things were missing. My heart thumped at the thought of Tom searching this room later, opening doors and drawers to check what I’d taken, furious that I’d gone, that he hadn’t realized I was preparing to run. That morning I’d had only an hour or so to pack and of course I couldn’t make lists in case they were found, so for the last couple of weeks I’d been memorizing items like in a children’s memory game. I’d lie in bed each night going through the lists in my head. When I drove to work I’d test myself, saying the items out loud, frustrated when I couldn’t remember something.

On the landing outside the spare room was a plastic bag that Tom had filled for the charity shop several months earlier. It had been his birthday and I had bought him some presents. He’d hinted at these for a long time, a book on a photographer he loved, a new camera case, and a Paul Smith shirt he’d bookmarked online.

“Interesting choices,” he’d said, and set them to one side. My stomach had dropped. I should have known not to buy anything without his agreement. Permission, even.

He thanked me for the gifts, but something about his expression had made me say, “What? What is it?”

He’d just shaken his head and said, “Nothing. I was just thinking how it’s a shame that when you’re an adult you don’t enjoy birthdays anymore.”