She glanced across at the bedside clock: it showed 6.45 a.m. Christ, have I been asleep that long? she thought. She cleared her throat. ‘Yes, of course. You know where my father’s house is. Meet me there.’

Shamus paused. ‘Your father’s?’

‘Yes, Shamus, I know what you’re thinking, but it’s still my house and I’m not worried. In fact, I’ll feel right at home there.’

Dragging herself away from the soft duvet, she got to her feet and crept to the bathroom. Her reflection in the mirror was a stark reminder that she was ageing fast, her hair lank and her eyes puffy. Her mind went back to the vision of Jennifer in that fitted red skirt and legs up to her armpits and then that fleeting moment with Eric. Taking a deep breath, she decided she wasn’t going to cry again. The thought of jacking it all in was instantly pushed from her mind. She wasn’t going to let her father down or Neil for that matter. Suddenly gripped by a gut-wrenching feeling, she hurried back to her room and the empty bed. Where was Mike, and, more to the point, who was Mike with?

Hesitantly, Zara crept down the stairs, not wanting to wake anyone up. As she reached the door to the lounge, she held her breath, afraid of what she might see. She sighed and shook her head. ‘Pull yourself together. This is ridiculous, Zara,’ she muttered to herself.

Yet when she pushed open the door, she gasped and shook from head to toe. Her eyes couldn’t look away, too intent on absorbing the sight. A scream wanted to leave her mouth, but she fought to hold it back. There, on one sofa, was Mike, wearing nothing but his trousers. On another sofa was Jennifer, with her skintight skirt up over her arse and just her thong showing. Her hair was a mess, and her lipstick was smeared across her face.

Zara’s world had just caved in but her instincts hours before had been proved correct. All her hopes and dreams were pouring bit by bit into a vast sinkhole. Their relationship was over before it had even begun. Mike’s proposal must have been an irrational spur-of-the-moment promise – now just a throwaway comment. As if losing her hand wasn’t bad enough, losing her man was worse. Feeling like a peeping Tom, she scurried away back to her room. After throwing a few things into a bag, she left, quietly closing the door behind her. Once she was on the street, she pulled out her smartphone from her bag and used the Uber app to call for a taxi to take her home.