Sighing with relief as you leave the room, I flick the Sonos on with a tap of my iPhone. Shostakovich begins to enrich the kitchen. I sit at the quartz table, head in my hands, and breathe deeply. He loves me. He loves me not. He loves me. He loves me not. Breathe. Breathe. He loves me. He loves me. He has always loved me. I mustn’t envy Julie – my friend and his.

23

Miles

After a busy day with the boys – Mother helping me – when they are settled in bed, I finally escape to the gym. My exhausted mother has retired to her boudoir for a hot bath and an early night. Our squiffy nanny has done the same I think, clutching the small gift I couldn’t resist buying her when we visited the toy shop with the boys this morning.

I spend an hour doing circuits – cable chest presses, chin-ups, push-ups, Smith machine squats. Just as I’m about to leave, my phone vibrates and pings. A text from Aiden.

Bored stiff. Any chance of meeting up for a drink?

Saffron, when I left home, you weren’t back from your jaunt to the south coast. I called you, I texted you, but there was no reply. Was your phone dead? Out of battery? Or were you without reception? As I step outside onto the pavement I try again. Still no reply. Maybe you have decided to stay overnight. It is a long drive.

Love to meet up. Saffron’s away. Fancy some company?

Where shall we meet?

The Cricketers’ pub, Richmond Green. Come on the train so you can have a few pints.

Midnight. I’m in the Uber on the way home. I’ve had more than a few pints. I’ve overdone it by mistake. I try and text you again, but sending you a message is too confusing for my fingers. Maybe I should be worried. It’s not like you to be uncontactable is it, Saffron? I try to work out when I last heard from you, but I can’t remember. The fug in my brain is becoming thicker, tighter. Lights whirl past me as the Uber pushes home through darkness. Streetlights, car lights, lights from pubs and restaurants. They rotate in my mind. Saffron, where are you? Are you at Julie’s? Have you come home?