‘Did you put that there?’ My voice is strangled, and I rest my hand lightly at the base of my throat, my pulse jumping wildly under my fingers. The shock of seeing Caro’s face staring out at me from above the fireplace has made my chest tighten, my throat close over.

‘Me? No, I didn’t put it there.’ Rupert steps past me and I catch a whiff of his aftershave. Hugo Boss. I bought him a bottle of some swanky Tom Ford aftershave before the wedding, but he rarely seems to use it, instead reaching for the bottles of Hugo Boss that Caro bought him, left in the bathroom cabinet. Habit, I hope, but part of me wants to smash every bottle in the cabinet.

‘I’d rather you were just honest with me, Rupert. If you want a photograph of Caro on display, then that’s fine. You don’t have to sneak it onto the mantelpiece while I’m upstairs changing for dinner.’

‘I didn’t put it there, Emily! Do you really think that I’d put up a photograph of my dead first wife without speaking to you about it? Did you not notice that there are no photographs of Caro anywhere on display in this house?’ Rupert marches the few steps across the room to the fireplace and snatches the silver frame up, shaking it in my face.

I take a step back, unnerved by how quickly Rupert has lost his temper. We’ve gone from pressed against one another, heat drawing us together, to icy cold within a few seconds. I’ve never seen him like this before; he’s always calm and laidback, nothing ever really seems to faze him. A thought flashes through my mind that maybe I don’t know him as well as I think I do.

‘I’m sorry!’ I almost shout the words, splaying my hands in a gesture of apology. Adrenaline makes my legs feel wobbly as I am back there in an instant, and it’s Harry’s voice I hear shouting at me, just before he lays his hands on me, leaving big, purple bruises on the pale skin of my arms. I draw in a ragged breath, trying to compose myself. This is Rupert, not Harry. ‘I’m sorry, OK? But Rupert, if you didn’t put the picture up there and I didn’t put that picture up there, then who did?’

Rupert stares down at Caro’s face and I am unsettled by the look that crosses his face as he takes in Caro’s features as if recommitting them to memory. ‘I don’t know. Didn’t you say Anya came today? Maybe she put it up?’