‘Right. No, well, when you put it like that.’ It sounded ridiculous, what I’d just said.

The whole thing was mortifying. Being here was mortifying.

There was a long pause while he turned back to the beans on the hob, and I held my tea between cold hands, thinking longingly of vodka.

‘Out of interest’ – he turned from the pan – ‘how do you plan to go about that?’

‘What?’

‘Saving yourself.’

I looked at him steadfastly. He seemed like a steadfast type of man – only, what did I know? ‘Um, yeah, right now I have literally no clue. But’ – I hesitated – ‘I just – I want you to know I’m not some silly little woman.’

He grinned. ‘I didn’t for one minute suppose you were. Is that what happens to silly little women though?’

‘What?’

‘Their husbands beat them regularly.’

‘It wasn’t regular.’ I was starting to feel peculiar. Lightheaded: like I might just float away. Perhaps I needed sugar in my tea. I looked about for some. ‘Really.’

‘What are you looking for?’

‘Retribution,’ I said without thinking. We stared at each other. ‘Or just some sugar.’

He found half a bag in the cupboard and passed it over.

‘So it was just a weekend special then, the black eye? And this was what? A midweek aberration?’

‘Big words.’ Still I stared at him.

‘Aye, maybe, but’ – he shrugged – ‘I’m just saying, doll.’

‘Please.’ I looked at my knees, fighting tears. ‘Don’t. It only just started. I’m just so…’

A massive tear plopped onto my jeans, followed by another.

Jesus, Melissa, I thought, stop being so pathetic. But the more I thought that, the harder, the quicker, the tears fell.

‘What?’ He took a tiny step nearer. ‘Just so what?’

I managed – just about – to look up at him.

‘Ashamed,’ I whispered.

‘There’s no shame in it. None.’ His voice was a whip-crack. ‘It’s him who should be ashamed. There is no excuse, is there?’ Light flashed in his strange blue eyes.

‘But in this day and age—’

‘Oh, what, you mean like, equality? It’s OK to hit women because we’re all equal now?’

‘No. Yeah, if you like. I mean, we’re still not all equal though, are we? Not even close. But I am a grown-up. I know all the basics. All the— I should have left; I should have told someone.’

‘Shoulds are never much help though, are they?’

I thought of the baby I’d hoped for; the baby I’d stayed for; prayed night and day for. I clutched myself for warmth. The baby I was never going to have with Rex; could never have had with him, as it turned out.

That I hadn’t known I couldn’t have with him until this morning. The reason I’d stayed.

It was pointless talking about it. I didn’t want to think of Rex’s face, ugly with anger. Of my own fear and stupidity. Of the wasted time – all the months and years of getting older.