As the evening crept on, she wondered about getting something to eat. Instead, she made a cup of tea and switched on the TV. Nothing held her attention, a documentary was too boring, a drama turned out to be less than gripping. The ten o’clock news came and went, and Jack still hadn’t arrived home. The pub did food, he’d probably had something to eat and would fall in the door later, stinking of garlic and onions. She put her mug in the dishwasher and headed to bed. If he was very late, he’d sleep in the spare bedroom so as not to disturb her. He often did.

More often recently? She tried to think if this was the case and gave up.

Crawling between the sheets, she lay and listened to the gentle sounds of the house settling for the night, the soft gurgle of the ancient plumbing, pipes creaking as the heating switched off, soft ticking sounds that lulled her to sleep.

At home, she usually slept well, falling quickly, waking suddenly. Reaching for her phone, she checked the time just as the alarm sounded. Seven. Time to get up. She opened the bedroom door and looked across the landing to the spare room. The door was ajar and through the gap she could see Jack sprawled face first, arms bent, hands shoved under the pillow.

Moving closer, she saw the pile of discarded clothes lying on the floor. With a glance at Jack’s gently snoring body, she picked up his trousers and slipped her hands inside the pockets. She found nothing; embarrassed with herself but unable to stop, she moved quietly to the jacket hung over the back of a chair. Here she found nothing more than a receipt for coffee and a few coins.

Jack’s wallet sat on top of a puddle of coins on the bedside table. It was so tempting. She supposed she should feel guilty, but she wouldn’t have to go to such extreme sneaky lengths if the stupid man would talk to her. The coins clinked as she lifted the wallet; she froze and kept her eyes on Jack. When he didn’t stir, she flipped the wallet open. A row of cards on one side she ignored, her fingers sliding into the compartments on the other. There were a couple of business cards but nothing else. Closing the wallet, she put it gently back on top of the coins.

Unlike her, Jack found it hard to wake and she had to shake him several times, each time with more force, before he finally opened one eye.

‘It can’t be time to get up,’ he pleaded groggily, his words slurred.

‘Afraid so. It’s after seven.’ She saw his eyes close again and knew he’d be asleep before she left the room. ‘Come on, Jack, stay awake.’