Then there was one of Kathryn alone. This one didn’t have a mirror image with Jack in the same pose. And it was the only photograph that was taken inside.

She was lying on a double bed. On the wall behind her was a painting of the sea. A lamp with a tiny fringed shade was in the corner. I guessed it must be a Bed and Breakfast room. We’d never stayed in such places.

She was lying on the bed in her underwear. Jack had taken a photograph of Kathryn in her underwear. Her bra was black and lacy; the pattern swirled around her breasts, and I remembered the lace of her petticoat, the one I’d seen in the library that day, and I thought of how I hadn’t seen it since. Again, her chest was pushed forward. Her knickers were pushed down over her hips so you could see her white stomach bulging just slightly over the top of them.

And she had her make-up on. Her eyes were the blackest things in the photograph. I had never seen Kathryn with make-up on in bed.

I looked at that photograph for a long time, wondering who the woman in it was.

I cut open the steak and there was blood, just as I like it. Kathryn speared a piece of cheese omelette.

I couldn’t taste anything, so I reached for the salt.

‘You should watch your salt intake, Howard,’ Kathryn said, swallowing her omelette. ‘Dr Webb was in the library today and he was telling Audrey about the dangers of high blood pressure. Apparently her husband – ’

‘Did you tell Jack what to put on his chips?’

‘I beg your pardon?’

‘Did you tell Jack what to put on his chips?’

She put her knife and fork down.

‘Don’t say his name in that way.’

‘I asked you a question. Did you tell Jack what to put on his chips?’

Kathryn was holding on to the edge of the table as if it might blow away at any moment. Her hair was clasped at her neck with a gold clip, which seemed to pull her cheeks tighter. ‘Don’t say his name in that way,’ she repeated.

‘How am I supposed to say it? Tell me, Kathryn. How do you say it?’

She stared at her plate.

‘How do you say it? Because I’ve never heard you say it.’ ‘I won’t have this,’ she whispered, still gripping the table.

I stabbed my fork into the solid meat of the steak.

Kathryn stood up. ‘I can’t have this, Howard.’ There was a tremble in her voice.

I took a big bite of meat and chewed on it.

‘You have no right.’ Her mouth was twisted. She reached up and touched her hair clip.

I could see she was close to tears but I carried on chewing for a while. Then I swallowed. ‘I think I have a right to know.’

She said nothing.

I shook more salt on my chips. A few of the hard crystals bounced across the tablecloth.