‘Are you OK? Only . . .’ She gestured towards the computer.

‘Right.’ He looked down at the screen. ‘It’s fine. I’m just – Sam sent a few bits and pieces over.’

‘Really?’ They had agreed that Sam was more than capable of running the gallery while they were away.

‘It won’t take long.’

‘Then it can’t be that important.’

‘Do you need the laptop?’

‘No.’ That wasn’t the point.

‘Do we have plans? Something else I should be doing?’

‘Well. No . . .’ You’re not here, though, she wanted to say, you’re off somewhere on your own, again.

‘Then I’ll get on.’

‘Chris—’

‘I’m sorry, am I disturbing you?’ His tone was sharp and she wished she hadn’t said anything. He stood, picking up the laptop. ‘I’ll take this out of the way, then.’ And it seemed to her that as he left he made a point of closing the door a little too firmly behind him.

*

She wasn’t going to follow him, she thought, trying to get back into her book, not when he was being so unreasonable, not when the whole trip had been his idea anyway, a way to make up for – for everything. Tears began to prick at her eyes.

This wasn’t like her – she wasn’t usually so easily upset. They didn’t quarrel, she and Chris, they didn’t snipe at each other. The day had started so well. She tried to focus on the printed page in front of her. It was fine, she told herself. They’d had a long trip, and they were still tired and it wasn’t unreasonable for him to keep in touch with Sam and the gallery, and the way she felt – well, maybe it was her hormones or something. Maybe.

The words on the page dipped and swam in front of her. She put the paperback to one side and stood, inspecting the books on offer on the shelves underneath the window, before picking out an old hardback with a familiar title, The Lore and Legends of the North Riding. There was a series of thuds upstairs as Maude walked along the landing, then another one, more distant, in the attic perhaps, as Nell took the book back to her seat and finally the house settled into an uncomfortable silence.

*