She looked back at him, tears shining in her eyes. Her lips were quivering as she tried to hold back emotions she didn’t want to show. But it was no good. A single tear slid down her cheek, utterly perfect and pure on her pale, velvety skin. Without even thinking, he reached over and rubbed it with his thumb. ‘Talk to me. What’s going on?’

‘. . . What if it’s not the baby blues?’ she whispered. ‘What if it’s . . . actually about something else that’s wrong? What if it’s about . . .’ She swallowed. ‘Us?’

His heart pounded faster as he realized what she was saying to him, the desperation in her eyes for him to acknowledge the truth.

‘I don’t think it’s going to get better.’ She shook her head more quickly now, her conviction beginning to harden. ‘No matter how much I try, I don’t think I can keep pretending with things the way they are. I’m not happy. You know I’m not.’

‘I know, of course I do, but –’

A familiar beating sound suddenly made them both look up, descending upon the house like a thundercloud. They looked back at each other, the helicopter’s downdraft already flattening the flowers outside the windows.

She gave an unhappy laugh at the timing, but he could see her devastated look was already being bitten back. ‘Always so damned prompt,’ she said with a single shake of her head, but below the withering top notes, he heard despair.

‘Hanna, we need to talk about this –’ He reached for her hand again, but she withdrew it quickly and began patting her eyes dry with her fingertips. Several moments later, she was remade again – no trace left of her distress – and she looked back at him with her usual composure. It was an incredible thing to witness, to see the mask being put back on.

‘It’s fine, honestly. There’s really nothing to say, anyway. My mind is made up.’ She pushed back her chair and rose, her meaning clear – the rest of the dinner party was arriving; their precious time alone together was already up. ‘I’m leaving him.’

Chapter Twenty-Six

‘You’ve got to keep it together,’ Nina said, watching from her spot on the armchair as he criss-crossed the room.

‘I am.’

‘No. You’re like a tiger in one of those zoos – pacing, pacing, pacing. You’re setting me on edge, and I’m already one gin and tonic into my afternoon.’ She watched as he tracked a figure of eight around the settle and past the ottoman. ‘At least take those sunglasses off. It’s quite disturbing looking at you wearing those things in the house.’

‘It’s not a fashion statement, Nina,’ he said through gritted teeth, wishing she would stop telling him what to do. ‘It’s helping with my –’ He suddenly grimaced and doubled over, clutching his head between his hands. The room had gone black, but his mind was alive with colour, images flashing past in an incomprehensible flash – faces, noises, pain. And Hanna. Always Hanna. Her clear eyes, a streak of her pale hair, the dazzling whiteness of her perfect teeth. And then the darkness enfolding him like a mother’s arms, taking him away, keeping him safe . . .