Was the distance that had grown between them her fault? She’d been so caught up in Remi and Freya’s departure, the organising and arrangements, invoices that needed to be paid. All of it had fallen on her shoulders. She hadn’t minded but maybe he had. Maybe, not only did he miss the children but also resented her total immersion in them and felt left out.

The grip on her fork tightened. So maybe he had looked elsewhere for attention. Maybe he’d been tempted to cheat on her, the same way she’d been tempted to cheat on him – only with more success. Was that why he’d looked so shifty and spun her that crazy story about making the bed? She was convinced it hadn’t been slept in, so where had he spent the nights? She dropped her fork and pushed the plate away.

‘You’ve hardly touched it,’ he said in surprise, reaching over with his fork and jabbing it into a piece of her chicken.

‘I ate a lot over the weekend,’ she said, pushing the plate closer to him. ‘The food in the hotel was excellent.’

After lunch, they walked the short distance to St Luke’s Gardens. This late, the flower borders held little interest, but it was still a pleasant, quiet place for a stroll. Molly was conscious of the silent man at her side, of the need to make conversation that before would have flowed. Since when had they struggled for words to fill the gaps… since when had there been gaps?

A sideways glance told her he was lost in thought, a set look to his profile. She slid her hand into his and saw his quick look of surprise – she’d never been the hand-holding type. But she could change; now that the children were settled, she could concentrate on him. If there was one lesson she’d learned from the calamitous weekend, it was how easy it was to be led astray. If Jack were having an affair, she’d fight for him.

‘Let’s go away for a weekend,’ she said, squeezing his hand tightly. ‘Maybe to Venice for a few days. What do you think?’

He pulled his hand away and bent to retie his shoelaces. They didn’t look to Molly as if they needed to be retied and when he stood, and they’d resumed their walk, she noticed he didn’t reach out to take her hand. On the contrary, he moved slightly further away as if to prevent her doing so.

She felt a weight in her chest. They were in more trouble than she’d thought.

He hadn’t answered her question.

‘Well?’ she said, trying to keep her voice light.

She saw him turn toward her, a puzzled lift to his eyebrows. ‘Well, what?’

‘About my idea of a weekend away,’ she said, unable to prevent the trace of exasperation.