A few days later, I still haven’t shaken the uneasy feeling that settled on me the night we arrived home from Barbados, although Rupert seems to be back to his usual self. He grabs a piece of toast, shoving it into his mouth while searching for his car keys, as I sit quietly at the kitchen table, still in my dressing gown. I’m finding it strange to be sitting here, with nowhere to go and nothing to do, while Rupert rushes around frantically. I nurse the dregs of a cup of tea, as I wait for him to leave the house so I can start getting ready myself, although ready to do what exactly I don’t know.

The days are different, now Rupert has taken on a cleaner – a Polish woman named Anya, who seems to spend a lot of her time scowling at me – and taking care of the house is no longer my responsibility. It turns out that I’m not as brilliant at keeping house as I thought I would be, and after I used neat bleach to clean the marble floor tiles in the main bathroom (damaging them beyond repair, much to my horror), Rupert insisted on getting a professional in to take over. So now, instead of spending my days tidying and cleaning, I watch someone else do it. And do a better job of it, too. I pop the tiny bubble of boredom that grows in the pit of my stomach, telling myself that this is what I want.

‘What are your plans for today?’ Rupert asks, as he shoves papers into his briefcase. He’s asked me the same question every morning since we got home.

‘Probably nothing, the same as yesterday,’ I say, feeling prickly and scratchy. I get up and put my arms around him. It’s not his fault that I am irritable this morning.

‘I spoke to Sadie last night,’ Rupert’s chin rests on my hair, ‘she said she’s going to a yoga class this morning, if you’d like to join her. She’s going to text you.’

‘Oh. OK.’ That would be nice, I think. I haven’t been to a yoga class for months, not since I left Harry. It’ll keep me busy, stop me from worrying about whether someone – some unknown identity – has been in the house, whether someone is watching me. Watching us. I have to keep busy, to stop myself from worrying about things. Rupert says he’ll get the security cameras fixed outside so I won’t feel quite so jumpy at being alone in the house anymore, but right now, every time I think I am OK, that I have got over things, I see the letter on the kitchen table, BITCH etched onto the paper.

‘I’ve put Find My iPhone on your phone, by the way,’ Rupert says as he takes a mouthful of coffee, almost spilling it down his tie.