‘I don’t believe you,’ she says. If he couldn’t do it before – when she was waiting for him – then there’s little chance he’s done it now.

He sits on the edge of the king-size bed. ‘It’s true. I understand why you might not rush to believe me, but I’ve done it.’

‘Does she know? Or have you just disappeared on her? You like doing that kind of thing, don’t you?’

‘I’m sorry I did that. I hate myself for hurting you like that.’

She folds her arms across her chest. ‘I’m fine. I’m happy. Getting on with my life.’ If she says it forcefully enough, she might just be able to believe it, even for a moment.

‘Maybe you are,’ he says, ‘but you don’t love Rob. I know you don’t.’

Through the window, trees dance in the wind – it’s breezy today, more like November than August. She focuses on their movements; if she narrows her eyes, she can almost believe they are human. ‘You don’t know anything about my marriage, Mark.’

‘I know that you were leaving him, following your heart.’

And Mark trampled all over it – crushed it into a thousand tiny pieces. Left her fractured and broken. She continues staring out of the window, unable to meet his gaze. She’s seconds away from breaking down; all the pain she’s kept carefully bottled up is ready to explode from her body.

‘Do you remember when we were at school?’ he says when she doesn’t respond. ‘We used to spend every break time and every lunchtime together. Everyone thought we were crazy, that we’d never last the distance.’

‘We didn’t, did we?’ she snorts. She knows what he’s doing; he thinks taking her back there will soften her, break down the barrier she’s spent years putting up.

He ignores her. ‘We didn’t need anyone else, did we? Only each other.’

He’s right; that was exactly how she’d felt then. It was the two of them against the world. With you by my side I can do anything, Mark used to tell her. She’d felt the same. And even as they’d left school and grown older, become the adults they were turning into, nothing had changed. At least not until he had decided he needed a change. That they’d outgrown each other and both of them needed to experience a world separate from the one they occupied together.

‘It wasn’t healthy, was it?’ Abby says, still unable to look at him. ‘And look what happened. You wanted to know what it would be like to be with other people, to find out who you were without me.’