‘How was your day?’ she asked, leaving one hand on his shoulder.

‘Awful – Dubai have pulled out. Grant threw an absolute fit.’

No wonder he’s in such a bad mood.

‘Oh, Chris, I’m so sorry. Is it very bad?’

‘Bad enough,’ replied Chris. ‘I’ve been at these numbers since Jamie went to bed – whichever way we slice it, we’re not making budget this month.’

‘But you’ve done so well the rest of the year,’ encouraged Claire.

‘Grant doesn’t see it like that,’ complained Chris. ‘It’s not enough for him to hit our targets – he wants to beat them to a pulp.’

‘Well look, it’s Friday night; there’s nothing you can do about it now. Why don’t we have a glass of wine and relax for a bit?’ suggested Claire.

‘You go ahead – I was planning on going out for a run,’ said Chris putting his laptop to one side and getting up from the chair.

He walked into the hallway and she could hear him getting his trainers out from the shoe cabinet. Following him out of the living room, she watched him plug his earphones into his mobile.

‘Hope it helps,’ she said as he opened the front door.

Chris didn’t reply, simply nodded, and as he shut the door behind him, she tried not to mind that he hadn’t bothered to ask her about her day.

*

The next morning, Claire woke up alone. Glancing at the clock, she saw it was almost eight. After telling Joshua to turn his music down and checking he’d done his homework, she’d done some more work herself before going to bed last night. Feeling slightly disorientated, she rose out of bed and grabbed her dressing gown. As she descended the stairs, she could hear Chris and the boys in the living room. She needed coffee.

Going into the kitchen, she was dismayed to see the state of it. They had clearly been making pancakes, the creamy batter a trail of splodges on the worktop. The large mixing bowl had been left abandoned with just a small pond of mixture in the bottom. A bottle of syrup stood without its cap, the sides of the bottle smeared with its contents. A half-full carton of strawberries lay to one side while a frying pan sat on the cooker waiting to be cleaned.

The dining table was no better and the sight of the mess made Claire want to turn around and head straight back upstairs. Instead, she went to the coffee machine, inserted a coffee pod and watched as the machine gurgled and spat, trying to ignore the din that came from the living room. Picking up the cup, she inhaled gratefully. After a few moments, she felt calmer and followed the noise.