‘And that’s supposed to make me feel better?’

‘We …’ He puts the laptop down on the bench beside him and stands up so he’s facing me. ‘We hadn’t been getting on for a while and—’

‘So it’s my fault, is it?’

‘No! God, no! It was me, it was all me. I was stressed. Dad had been ringing me up to moan about how unreliable Stephen was but when I tried to ring Stephen he laid into me. He said they were overworked and understaffed and if I gave a shit about Dad I’d do the right thing and join the firm. Then Dad had his heart attack and I was so scared. I thought he was going to die and it was my fault for being ambitious and thinking a builder’s merchants was beneath me. Then there was work – my work – and the pressure I was under to hit my targets. The kids were fighting at home. You and I weren’t getting on. And I couldn’t deal with it, Claire. I didn’t have anyone to talk to.’

‘You’ve got friends.’

‘I know. But no one wants to be the boring bastard bringing the mood down on a night out by complaining about how stressed they are.’

‘You could have talked to me.’

‘Could I? We were jumping down each other’s throats every other day.’

‘And you thought kissing another woman would help?’

‘No!’ He reaches me for but I shift back before he can touch me. ‘I was drunk. I was drinking alone and then Phil Jones called. He said I hadn’t been performing well and my figures were shit and that he’d have to let me go. I begged him. I begged him not to and I told him everything – all the reasons why I’d been struggling – and he said he’d give me one last chance. A written warning and if I put one foot wrong I was out. I was a mess when I went back into the pub. Miss Christian was there with some of her friends and she came over to the bar to see if I was okay. She was so nice to me and I was drunk and I was so stupidly grateful that she gave a shit that I … I …’

‘Tried to kiss her.’

‘Yeah.’ He briefly closes his eyes. ‘She pushed me away. She was so shocked. Really embarrassed. I tried to smooth things over but she ran off to her friends and then someone over by the window stood up and asked if anyone had a Ford Focus because someone had just chucked a rock through the window.’

‘It was Billy.’

‘What?’

‘Stephen told me.’

‘Stephen knew all this and he didn’t say anything?’

‘He was protecting Billy. He’d been confiding in him. You should understand that.’

Mark shakes his head, his cheeks flushed red with anger. ‘Why should I?’