‘Ahh, you know how she is…’ Rupert leans down, his lips searching for mine, but I place my hand on his chest to stop him and his mouth twists in irritation. ‘Em, please. You must know what she’s like by now. She loves a drink, doesn’t know when to stop. Sometimes her mouth runs away with her. She just pissed me off a bit and I was telling her to give it a rest.’

‘Right.’ I don’t know what to think. I didn’t hear the full conversation, I don’t know why Rupert said that about me not being Caro, but maybe he was standing up for me if Amanda had said something out of order. She doesn’t keep it a secret that she idolized Caro, but I had thought that she and I were becoming friendlier, if not quite properly friends.

‘Come on—’ Rupert drags me towards the dance floor, wrapping his arms around me and I breathe in the familiar scent of him, let him press his body against mine, and try to forget Amanda, standing watching us from the bar.

Rupert passes me a large mug of coffee as we sit at the breakfast table the next morning, my head fuzzy and my temples thumping from too much alcohol and a distinct lack of sleep. I was exhausted by the time we fell in the door at 3 a.m., but as I lay in our huge bed, Rupert’s arm around my waist as his breath whistled softly in my ear, I couldn’t sleep, my mind going over and over the words I had heard exchanged between Rupert and Amanda. Now, I am hot and prickly, my brain feeling foggy, and I jump when my mobile beeps. It’s a text message from an unknown number. I glance at Rupert, where he stands at the stove attempting to make pancakes, before my gaze drifts back to the screen and with a thumping heart I swipe to open it.

Ask your husband why Angus Beaton didn’t take you on.

A sharp intake of breath, and my throat thickens as I look up to see Rupert frowning over me.

‘Em? What’s the matter?’ His brow is creased with concern, and his hair sticks up on one side. His cheeks are dark with a day’s worth of stubble, and as I look at his familiar face I think for a moment, Do I know you? Do I even really know you? I don’t speak, instead I just hand him my phone.

‘Oh shit, Em,’ he sighs, laying the phone on the table and pulling out the chair next to me. ‘Who sent you this?’

‘I don’t know, it’s from an unknown number,’ I say, ‘but aren’t you going to say something? Explain it?’

He scrubs his hand though his hair, and I feel a surge of anger. ‘Explain, Rupert. What the hell is going on?’