Dammit. I stop caking on my foundation to sweep the mascara wand haphazardly over my lashes, rush to the door, sign for the parcel and leave it on the hall table. It’s for Nick. He obviously hasn’t bothered to update his address yet. I’ve no time to tidy the mess I’ve just made in the bathroom, which means today is bound to be the day Carl brings someone for a viewing. I throw my handbag over my shoulder and head out the door, locking it behind me. Carl has a set of keys so that he can conduct viewings in my absence. It’s been almost two months and, as yet, I don’t think he’s needed them – if there have been visits, he’s failed to inform me.

Hopelessness soars at the realisation it might be weeks before we get any interest. Now it’s been decided I’ll be getting a place with Richard, I’m impatient and just want us all to be in our new home together, starting our new chapter.

I thought it would be easier than this.

But I also thought my marriage would be forever.

I don’t remember feeling quite so intense about Nick as I do about Richard. A warm sensation envelops me at the mere thought of him and I pause on my doorstep to send a quick “good morning, gorgeous” text. I don’t wait for a response; he’s probably already at work. I head to my car, which I always manage to park directly outside of the house. The lovely thing about Apple Grove is most people stick to parking in their own spot, and as the semi-detached properties have driveways it means I’m rarely unable to park. I think it’s one of the unspoken rules of the neighbourhood.

‘Morning, Amber!’ a voice calls. I don’t need to turn to know it’s Davina. Sadly, the unspoken rule of not bothering your neighbours at every opportunity has yet to infiltrate Davina’s brain.

I throw my hand up, giving a brief wave before ducking quickly into the car, slamming the door and starting the engine. I can only imagine her expression. She’ll think I’m being rude, which I guess I am, but if I even utter good morning, she’ll take that as a sign I want to converse with her. And I don’t have twenty minutes to spare to listen to her village gossip or bat away her questions about Nick. Since he left, she’s been itching to get the inside info; find out why. I glance in my rear-view mirror as I drive away and note Davina’s slumped posture as she walks back towards her house – on the opposite side to mine and up a little.