‘Sean’s far from perfect,’ I said. ‘I can tell you that for a fact.’

‘Oh well, I’ve a feeling it might be too late anyway.’

‘What makes you say that?’

He let his head roll back onto the headrest of the chair, blinking blearily up at the stars, his chest rising and falling in a slow rhythm.

‘I’ve had some . . . suspicions recently.’

‘Suspicions about what?’

When Russ spoke again, his voice was clearer, softer, stripped of all its hard edges. All the swagger, all his alpha-male toughness, had gone.

‘I think Rowan is having an affair,’ he said.

Chapter 13

13

A wave of dizziness, as if I had stood up too fast.

‘An affair?’

‘Yup.’

‘I’m sure she wouldn’t do that, Russ.’

‘Are you?’

Are you? Are you really sure?

‘Yes.’

He pointed a finger at me, a lopsided grin on his face. ‘But you hesitated before you said yes. You hesitated.’

‘I’m still half-asleep.’

‘You hesitated, Kate. Admit it.’

The urge to match his revelation with my own, to share what I knew about Sean’s betrayal, was so strong I could feel it tugging at me like a centrifugal force, pulling me away from my husband.

Tell him what you know about Sean.

Tell him what you’ve found.

Tell him.

I took a deep breath and plunged in with a question instead, before I could change my mind.

‘Who is it?’ I said quietly. ‘Who do you think she’s seeing?’

Please don’t say Sean, please don’t say Sean. Please, not him.

Russ shrugged.

‘Reckon it’s someone she’s known for a while. Not someone new.’

‘What makes you say that?’

‘Gut feeling. You’re her friend, you’ve known her since you were both . . .’ he waved his glass vaguely in front of him, more of the brandy spilling over the lip, ‘like eighteen, or whatever. Has she talked to you about it?’

‘No.’

‘Not even a hint?’

‘Nothing.’

He snorted. ‘You wouldn’t even tell me if she had though, would you?’

‘She’s not said anything to me. She’d be more likely to confide in Jennifer, to be honest. They were always more of a pair when we were younger.’

I was torn between defending my friend and getting Russ to open up, tell me about his suspicions. Wanting to carry on in blissful ignorance versus wanting to know everything.

‘What makes you say that,’ I said slowly, ‘about Rowan?’

‘Something’s going on,’ he said. ‘I just know it.’

‘Doesn’t sound like she’s doing a very good job of keeping it secret, if you suspect something is going on.’

‘She thinks I haven’t twigged. You think I should ask her, point-blank?’