Caroline sighs again. ‘I’m sorry, Claire. I know you’re just trying to help but it’s not as if I’m overreacting to a couple of drunken nights. Things have been bad for a while. What happened last night was the last straw. I think it’s over.’

My heart sinks, and not just because I know it’s not the answer Stephen is hoping for.

‘Are you okay?’ Caroline asks. ‘Stephen told me about Jason Davies and what he said. Have there been any developments? I gather you haven’t been in to work for a while. Have the police said—’

‘No. There’s no news.’ I glance towards the door as two men walk into the pub, laughing and punching the air. My car is parked in a dodgy one-way street nearby, the tote bag tucked under the passenger seat. I think I’ve hidden it well enough that anyone walking past won’t see it and I don’t imagine car thieves operate this early but I can’t take the risk. ‘I’m really sorry. I’ve got to go, Caroline.’

‘Oh.’ She sounds affronted. ‘Okay then.’

‘I’ll give you a ring soon. Talk to you properly.’

‘No worries. Take care of yourself, Claire. Bye.’

Stephen reaches for his pint and drains half of it in one gulp.

‘Well?’ he asks as I tuck my phone back into my handbag. ‘What did she say?’

‘She’s still angry. You’re going to have to work hard to win her round.’

‘But she’ll give me a chance?’

I want to lie. I want to tell him that she loves him and she’s just a bit pissed off but I can’t do that, to either of them.

‘I don’t know.’

‘Oh, for fuck’s sake! Fat lot of good you’ve been.’

‘Stephen, I tried.’

‘Bollocks.’ He drains the pint and then signals to the barman. ‘Another pint and a whisky chaser, please.’

Then he hitches up the sleeves of his sweatshirt, revealing his tattooed forearms. ‘I don’t know what you’re looking so smug about,’ he says.

‘Me?’

‘Yeah. You and Goldenballs. You can pity me all you like, Claire, but you haven’t got the first clue about the man you married. You’re the one who deserves pity, not me.’

‘I’m not listening to this.’ I push back my chair and stand up. ‘I tried to help you and now you’re insulting my husband because you’re feeling sorry for yourself. Stay here and drown your sorrows, Stephen. I’ve got more important things to do.’

I reach for my handbag and start walking away but I haven’t taken more than three paces before he grabs my wrist.

‘Wait!’ He looms over me, stinking of fags, sweat and beer. ‘You need to hear this.’

‘No.’ I wrench my arm away. ‘I really don’t.’

‘There’s something you don’t know about Mark.’