She ordered another cappuccino but drank only half. As she got up to leave, she saw her reflection in the glass of the door, like a ghost. She noticed the carved wishbone on the little leather thong around her neck. She had completely forgotten about it. Would Nat ask about it? Normally he didn’t notice things like that. But she didn’t want to take it off. She felt, strangely, that it would be disloyal to Liam. She tucked it inside her shirt.

She walked through empty residential streets and reached her own door at half past nine, took a deep breath, stood up straighter, went inside.

Nat was on the phone as she came in, talking in a low, calming voice. When he saw her standing there so obviously tired and spent, his face went blank with surprise for a moment, but then he ended the call and took her in his arms as if she had been away for weeks. He smelled clean; his hair was still wet from the shower and he was freshly shaved. Jude sat at the kitchen table while Nat made tea for them both. He placed a mug in front of her then leaned down and kissed her on the top of her head. Then he sat opposite her with his own mug. Jude wondered: was there something about his expression? Did he suspect something?

“You’re back sooner than I expected,” he said. “I didn’t know there were such early trains.” Panic flooded Jude; she couldn’t bring herself to speak. But Nat didn’t expect an answer. “Was she glad to see you?” he asked.

Now was the moment. Jude looked into his face, still a bit puffy from sleep. Now, she thought. Her imagination ran ahead of her, hearing the words she was going to say, seeing his confused face.

“Yes,” she said. “It was the right thing to do.” As she spoke, she told herself that she would never lie to Nat again after this. Not ever. This was a one-off and it would be a lesson to her. “She’s so old now,” she said. “I get a bit of a shock each time I see her.”

Nat took her hand, turning the engagement ring on her finger, nodding.

Jude shut her eyes because she couldn’t bear to look into his believing face. There was no reason that he should ever have to find out about this wreckage of a weekend.

“What did you talk about?”

“Oh, you know, the past. Memories. That’s where she lives now, in her memories. Then I cooked her a meal and she went to bed. I had trouble sleeping though,” she added, to account for her obvious weariness.

“That’s not like you. Migraine?”

“Yes.”

Another lie. Little lie upon big lie.

“Everyone missed you at Dee’s last night.”

“So you went?”

“Yeah. Shall I run you a bath?”

“That would be good.”

“Then brunch?”