I crept around the house, shoving things into an old rucksack, praying she didn’t wake. When I had everything I needed, I took one, last lingering look at my wife. I contemplated kissing her goodbye but instead I slipped out of the front door, closing it silently behind me.

Chapter Twenty

Anna

The bed was cold and empty when I woke. The house too still. Too quiet. I wondered where Adam was. I tried to remember whether he’d mentioned going out but we’d barely spoken last night.

I reached for my phone. There was a text from Ross. It said, If you ever change your mind… I felt a momentary pang of regret but turning him down was the right thing to do. He wasn’t the answer. I didn’t know what the answer was.

Saturday stretched before me long and languid. It was ridiculous that during the week my alarm startled me from sleep, but at weekends I was always awake impossibly early. I got up. Once we would have relished a lie-in, fingers greasy from buttered toast, tongues hot from coffee and later with kisses. We assumed our selfish time was precious, short. Convinced that before long we would have a Moses basket nestled at the foot of the bed. A toddler to take to the park. Weekends would be spent feeding ducks, riding bikes, cutting men from gingerbread before pressing Smartie buttons into the dough. Bath-time. Bedtime. It would all centre around them, the children we hadn’t yet been able to bring into the world.

By ten I had showered, dressed, changed the sheets and cleaned out Hammie’s cage while he hared around in his plastic wheel. There was still no word from Adam. I had an uncomfortable feeling in my stomach. I lit a vanilla candle before I retrieved the bills we had stuffed down the side of the microwave. I might as well do something useful with my time before he came home. The house felt different without him here. For a moment I pretended he was never coming back.

You should leave. That would make me happy, I had said Thursday night, but would it? I didn’t feel the same about Adam when I looked at him anymore but had my shame, my guilt, clouded my vision? We never used to bicker like we did now. Would we be happier apart? Would Adam? Should I set him free? Set both of us free? It was hard not to cling to the familiar. The comfortable. I still remembered crying in my old cat Pugwash’s fur, reluctant to let him go despite knowing it would be best for him. Wanting him to be pain-free but unable to contemplate a life without him.

I opened the kitchen drawer to fetch our banking folder. Instead of being under the clean tea towels I had placed there yesterday morning, it was on top of them.