‘This is why I left you a note.’ Evan pointed towards the screwed-up paper in her hand. ‘I thought it would explain things better. You know I get tongue-tied under pressure.’

Under pressure? He wasn’t under pressure. He was calmly standing there tearing her heart out. She was the one under pressure and didn’t she have every right to know more? Evan picked up the case and began to move around her. She thought about blocking the door, forcing him to stay and answer her questions but her mind had gone blank with pain and she couldn’t move. How could he be such a coward and try and sneak out without telling her face to face?

‘I’ll be in touch soon for the rest of my stuff, okay?’

Anger and rage pushed themselves to the forefront of her mind. ‘Oh, will you now? Well let’s hope I haven’t destroyed it all before you get round to it.’

‘Please, Bella, don’t be silly.’

‘Silly?’ she squealed. ‘Silly? How dare you call me silly.’

Her body convulsed but for all the vehemence in her words, her heart tore apart and she sobbed loudly. There was no ladylike sniffing, no dainty dabbing at her eyes. She wiped fiercely, smearing streaks of mascara across her cheeks as the realisation that her life as she knew it was now over. The man she’d loved and thought one day she’d marry had deceived her. Nothing could hold back the pain that coursed through her veins.

‘I’m sorry, Bella. But I can’t stay anymore. Read the note. It might explain it all better.’

With a final glance, Evan shuffled sideways like a crab, lugging the suitcase after him, and edged out of the door. Through the pane of glass she watched him walk down the path, climb into his car and drive off.

Bella collapsed onto the stairs. Inside, it was almost as if her heart had stopped beating. Perhaps if she’d been able to grow that thick skin he was always talking about, she wouldn’t feel like she was dying. She’d be able to brush off the pain and look on the bright side as she normally did, but what bright side could there possibly be to being dumped? Near Christmas. At thirty-five.

As she sat staring at the back of the front door, she realised he’d taken one of the suitcases they’d bought for their first holiday together. One of the ones that had shipped their clothes into Lavender Cottage: their first home. He’d used something so special to slink off to his new girlfriend’s house. He’d have taken his clothes. His mementos. As if she had to see it for herself, Bella charged up the stairs to their bedroom.