They sat like that for an age, Katie trying to find a crack in the wall that was always rebuilding itself with bricks of mistrust and fear every time she climbed it. She rubbed her cheek on that long hard thigh, and struggled to make sense of her feelings.

‘Then tell me who you are.’

Sam opened his eyes, and the action released another tear he had been saving. She wiped it away for him this time with a delicate finger.

‘You know who I am.’

‘But I want to know more. I want to know who you were.’

Sam bent forward and took her face in his hands. It was such a beautiful face. Pointed chin, blonde hair streaked with a darker hue that made it change with every toss of her head, surprising dark arched eyebrows, and those eyes, those blue intense eyes with tiny laughter lines creeping from the corners that Sam prided himself in creating over a decade.

‘Does it matter?’

She looked up at him, her face cupped in his brown hands like she had a beard made of fingers. ‘It didn’t used to. But somehow it feels like it does now.’

He let go her face with a gentle stroke on her cheek and looked up at the ceiling. Katie continued, still touching his thigh. She couldn’t help touching it. Even in this barren emotional desert they had suddenly found themselves in, she longed for it to be naked against her own. She was drowning in her bewilderment, and spoke mainly to suppress it, to stall the silence and the realization of how her husband had just behaved.

‘I haven’t told you much about who I was either, have I?’

‘Sure you have.’

She shook her head at him, her shoulders giving one more involuntary heave as if hoping she would sob again. Her voice was steadier now. ‘No I haven’t. Not really. I told you about Tom and me, but that’s all. This house for instance. I never told you what it was like to have been a child here, did I?’

‘Guess not.’

‘It didn’t seem right. I wanted this place to have only our memories. Our new family memories. Not all mixed up with mine.’

‘Fine. I understand.’

‘No. But I want to tell you now. I want us both to know more.’

He looked so weary, her Sam. He brought his eyes back to hers, and reached for her hand. But he was still far away.

‘So tell me.’

He said it as though he cared little about what she had to say, but just wanted to hear her speak. And he said it so softly, so gently, she could scarcely remember the villain he had been only minutes ago. She wanted to kiss him. Instead, she told him.