Shaking her head, she closed the door of the summerhouse and walked on unsteady legs back to the house, but Finn had gone.

She felt different, and it wasn’t the dress or the heels. It was the way Finn had looked at her. He’d made her feel attractive. Aware of herself as a woman.

But she wasn’t going to go tomorrow.

Or was she? She was going to be opening Ruth’s letters with her mother tomorrow afternoon. It could be upsetting. An evening with Finn would give her something to look forward to.

The doorbell rang and her pulse rate doubled.

Finn.

He’d changed his mind about waiting until tomorrow.

Smoothing her hair, she took a deep breath and walked to the door, feeling tall and elegant in her new heels.

She tugged open the door, a smile on her face, and almost fell over.

Sean stood there, hair ruffled, unshaven, eyes tired. In his hand was the article from the magazine, crumpled and torn in places. Eight signs that your marriage might be in trouble.

“Hi, Liza.”

19

LIZA

Liza slept badly, which tended to happen when your husband arrived unannounced and you were all dressed up and contemplating sex with another man.

She would not have slept with Finn, or so she told herself as she lay staring at the ceiling, thinking about Sean who she’d sent to the bedroom across the corridor.

It was the first time in their long marriage that they’d been in the same house and slept apart. She’d used the excuse that he must be tired after the journey and in need of a good sleep, but really it was because she wasn’t sure there was room in the bed for the two of them and her guilt. She needed to think everything through and she wouldn’t be able to do that with Sean lying next to her.

Why should she feel guilty? She hadn’t done anything. Thinking about something didn’t count, did it? Or maybe it did.

She’d felt like the one in the right, but now she felt like the one in the wrong which was what happened when you put off doing something that needed to be done.

She should have spoken to Sean right away, the moment those first doubts had crept into her head. Like spotting a weed in the garden, she should have said, Look at that! Let’s pull it up right now in case it spreads, but she hadn’t, and she’d let it spread until there were so many weeds she could barely see him through the tangled mess.

She saw now that she was as responsible for their problems as he was, because she hadn’t said anything. She’d expected him to know, as if he should have been able to read her mind after so many years. As if he had magical powers.