My fingers slips under the seal, the paper rips.

I don’t want to open it.

The world shifts beneath my feet as I read what is scrawled on the paper inside.

I’m still standing there when Archie thunders down the stairs demanding Weetabix, orange juice, a kiss.

I’m still standing there when George sidles up behind me, reading over my shoulder, seeing those two words that shift and blur and move in and out of focus.

The innocuous words that sound like a warning.

FOUR DAYS.

Chapter Fifteen

George

Now

It was George who gently removed the letter from Leah’s fingers. George who settled her on the sofa before retreating to the kitchen to fill the ginormous hole Archie declared he had in his tummy, with milk-soft cereal and sweet-sticky toast.

Four days, the letter had said.

Four days until it will all be over. But then there’s next year. The year after. Thirty years. Forty. The milestones stretch out before him, a long path of unhappiness.

Is he doing the right thing?

He has never felt more conflicted. Last night for the first time in ages he’d felt closer to Leah. They were still a long way from being happy but a token bunch of forecourt flowers and taking the time to talk, to listen, was a start. He owed it to her to try, didn’t he? He owed it to his wife to be honest and true. Look at the state one letter had left her in. For all her bravado last night, George knew she wasn’t strong. She’d be easily broken. The thought of having to pick up all the pieces and glue her back together once more made his chest feel tight. He doesn’t know if he can, not again.

But she needs him right now. He should spend more time at home. For Archie’s sake as much as anyone’s.

George understands what Marie wants from him, but he just can’t give it to her. Not yet.

Is it too late to call the whole thing off? Would Marie forgive? Forget?

‘Leah,’ he crouches beside his wife and pushes a coffee into her hands. ‘It’ll be a journalist trying to scare you into talking. Everyone’s looking for a headline. It’ll be okay.’

‘Do you promise?’ she asks him the impossible.

He closes his eyes against the memory.

Arms and legs wrapped around him. Soft breath and warm moans in his ears.

But it wasn’t real. This is his real life. Morning sun gathering strength, shining a halo over the table where Archie is dabbing up crumbs with his fingers. Strawberry jam smeared around his mouth.

This.

Isn’t it?

He doesn’t promise it will be okay.

He can’t.

Chapter Sixteen

Leah

Now

Four days.

I’ve called work and told them I’ll be late. George offers to drop Archie off at nursery on his way to work. He reassures me again that he’ll remind the staff to be mindful of security, to call if anything out of the ordinary happens. I wave them goodbye out of the window, wearing a bright smile that hurts my face to hold. My hands had touched the letter. I’ve washed them repeatedly until my skin is pink and sore but I can’t wash the words away from my mind. They feel dark and dirty.