He’d made the damn bed. He hadn’t put on the laundry or emptied the dishwasher. But she knew the easiest course was to give him the praise he was seeking. ‘I was pleasantly surprised.’ She didn’t mention that it looked as if it hadn’t been slept in. She still wasn’t convinced it had.

‘I knew you were unhappy about losing Rebecca, I thought I’d show you that I could help out more.’

‘Great,’ she said, trying to sound enthusiastic, knowing by the tightening of his mouth that she hadn’t succeeded.

He drained his mug, left it on the table and went into the study to check emails before they headed out to lunch. With a sigh, Molly picked the mug up and put it into the dishwasher with her own. There was a beep as the washing machine finished the cycle. She went into the small utility room, opened it and transferred the clothes to the tumble dryer.

With the idea of putting Jack’s gym clothes in for a wash, she went back to the kitchen. But he’d taken the bag with him. So much for being helpful. She scowled; she wasn’t going to go looking for it.

Despite Jack’s assurances, the Lebanese restaurant didn’t have a table free for lunch. Instead, they went to an Italian that, although excellent, was too traditional, conservative even, for the Instagram-obsessed customers who frequented the restaurants in their area. No flowers, no fantasies, just food.

‘So, tell me about the weekend,’ Jack asked her. ‘Amelia wasn’t much fun, you said.’

‘I was mostly on my own, Amelia vanished somewhere. I think she was having a fling with one of the waiters.’

One of Jack’s eyebrows disappeared into his hair. ‘Seriously?’

Gossip, it was never kind. She laughed. ‘Of course not, I was kidding. Amelia likes her own space, that’s all. She wasn’t expecting to have to babysit me, she thought you were coming, remember?’

Jack, in the middle of lifting his pasta-laden fork, stopped and stared at her. ‘So, you’re blaming me for the weekend not being up to your standards?’

‘No,’ she said, ‘I’m trying to explain why it was a bit of a washout.’ She put her fork down, her appetite suddenly gone as she thought about the weekend.

‘You and Amelia have been friends forever, but you’ve hardly spent any time with her in the last ten years. People change, Mol.’

What about in a year? She wanted to ask him what had changed between them, because something had. It was easy to blame work or to imagine he was cheating on her with Amelia or any number of women. Too easy perhaps. The dim light of the restaurant emphasised the shadows and shades on his face.