They both look away slightly at the mention of Angie. The sun shines straight into the car, bathing it with yellow light. Perhaps neither of them know what to say in the brightness of a new day.

‘No, she didn’t want it in the house with a little one around. I told her it was gone, like, put her mind at rest.’

‘But you kept it?’

Patrick turns to Chloe with a smile and leans towards her. ‘It’s always best to have a few secrets in a marriage,’ he says.

The traffic starts moving again, and they both stare straight ahead. Chloe wonders what other secrets he has kept from Maureen, and every so often, as they head into the city, she glances again to the back seat.

‘It won’t bite,’ Patrick laughs.

Chloe attempts a smile. She’s never been this close to a gun.

As they near the city, land makes way for roundabouts and concrete. Patrick takes each turn, over various roundabouts, as if he knows the way. As if he’s been here a thousand times before. They leave the city centre behind them and Chloe looks over her shoulder as it disappears. He takes one dual carriageway after another, back out towards the sky, away from the newspaper offices. Chloe feels the back of her legs tense against the passenger seat. She has been so distracted by the thought of the gun that she’s forgotten to give him directions.

‘Where are we going?’ she says.

Patrick turns from the wheel. ‘Your office, ent we?’

‘Yes, but . . .’ She points over her shoulder, back towards the city, and it’s then – only then – that she remembers it’s the insurance company, not the newspaper, that he’s taking her to.

‘It’s still over near the showground, isn’t it? Unless it’s moved since—’

‘No, no,’ Chloe says quickly. ‘We’re still there.’

‘Oh good,’ Patrick says, ‘thought I was having a dementia moment then.’

He laughs, and she does too, expelling the breath she’s trapped inside her lungs at last.

Patrick pulls up outside a glass-fronted insurance building, people in dark suits filtering in like ants to a nest.

‘This is the place, right?’ he says.

‘Yes,’ she says, undoing her seat belt.

He looks up under the sun visor to the building.

‘I wonder if John’s about . . . I could say hello.’

Panic sticks to Chloe’s skin.

Patrick shakes his head. ‘Probably have to get an appointment to see him these days.’

Chloe nods, grateful to be pushing on the car door, stepping out of the vehicle. In fact, she’s so keen to get out, she doesn’t notice who is standing there when her feet reach the pavement.

‘Chloe?’ a voice says.

Patrick indicates with his eyes and she turns around.

‘I thought it was you,’ Phil says. ‘What on earth are you doing—’