‘Don’t tell me what to do,’ Miles hisses. ‘I’ll talk to her tomorrow. Right now, she looks as if she’s off her head. She must be, to be dallying with you.’ He widens his nostrils in disgust. ‘Piss off, Aiden. Get out of my house.’

‘As long as you don’t punch me again, when I walk past.’

I watch his fist clench. ‘I can’t promise that,’ he snarls.

32

Saffron

I wake up in the morning, head pounding, mouth like sandpaper. My body feels heavy with guilt as I remember kissing Aiden. Enjoying the taste of someone different, just for a few seconds, until it felt wrong. Aggressive. Claustrophobic. Pulling away, seeing Miles watching us.

Miles. I put my arm out to touch him, but his side of the bed is empty. The duvet is smooth. He hasn’t slept here.

Slowly, carefully, I manoeuvre my fragile body out of bed, by planting my feet firmly on the floor and pulling myself to standing. I’ve still got my shoes on. Oh my God, I was so off my head. I need to talk to Miles and explain everything. Beg him to tell me what is happening with Julie.

I drag my body to the bathroom. I clean my teeth, smooth my clothes down and brush my hair, then set off in search of my husband. But as soon as I set foot on the landing, I hear Harry calling.

‘Mummy. Mummy.’ His voice is strident and plaintive.

I step into his Thomas the Tank Engine themed bedroom. He jumps out of bed, grabs my legs and hugs them. I bend down and put my arms around him, but the sudden movement exacerbates my headache and I feel sick. As soon as my hug has satisfied him, I pull away.

‘Why don’t you go and find Ben? Watch a video in the playroom. I need to talk to Daddy about something, then I’ll come and fetch you. We can have breakfast together.’

‘Please may we have chocolate croissants?’

‘Yes.’

Harry puts his head on one side and looks at me, wide-eyed. ‘Even though it’s not Saturday?’

‘As long as you let me have a quick chat with Daddy, that’s fine, yes.’

I hold his hand and we walk onto the landing together. I drop his hand and bend down to kiss his cheek.

‘See you soon.’

He pads off towards Ben’s room. I stride into the guest room, where Miles sleeps when he is upset. I find him fast asleep, lying beneath white Egyptian cotton, breathing deeply, slowly, heavily. I sit on the bed, beside him. He stirs.

‘Miles, we need to talk.’

He sits up. His face is ravaged. Grief-stricken. The only time I have ever seen him look like that is when his mother told him his father had died.

‘We certainly do. What happened?’ he asks.