His face paled. ‘Angie, I can explain.’

‘Please do.’ She could almost see the cogs turning in his head as he tried to work out what to say, how much to confess. He was so easy to read. ‘You need to tell me the truth, Jack, because you know I’m going to find out anyway.’

He sank down onto the bed, his head in his hands.

‘The truth, Jack,’ she said again.

‘Nothing happened,’ he began. Her heart soared with relief for a moment before she realised that there was still no real happy ending to this situation.

‘Something clearly happened,’ she said.

‘It was when I went out for work drinks on Thursday. A few of the boys went on to a late bar afterwards and we got talking to these girls. They invited us back to one of their flats for a nightcap and I was drunk and stupid, so I went along with the rest of them.’

Jack paused, looking at Angie pleadingly. ‘We carried on drinking and then this girl started making passes at me. She kissed me and I sobered up pretty quickly, made my excuses and left. As I was leaving, she gave me her number and I threw it into a bin on the way home. I didn’t even realise she’d put that in my pocket. We were both pretty wasted.’

Angie studied her husband carefully. Jack could be a juvenile prick but she didn’t think he was capable of lying to her. She had the truth. But what did she do with it now?

‘Why is it so hard?’ she asked him. ‘Being married to me? Being a father to our children? Why isn’t that enough for you? You chose this life; we didn’t force it on you.’

‘It is enough, Angie,’ he insisted, ‘it is enough. I love you all so much. I don’t know what’s wrong with me, I don’t. I’ll get some help, I promise.’

‘I’ve been patient over the years, Jack. I’ve forgiven you when you’ve gone out and pretended you didn’t have a wife and children waiting for you at home. When you haven’t even bothered to tell me if or when you were coming back. I’ve resented it, but I’ve done it.’

‘I know, Angie, I’m sorry. I don’t know what to say.’

She hated him at that moment, with his ridiculous little hangdog eyes. Why had she thought she was any different to the other girls whose hearts he had broken? Why had she thought she was better than them? In the end, she was the fool. She should never have married him; she’d been right about him from the start. Once Jack the jock, always Jack the jock.

‘You need to leave,’ she told him, glaring at him. ‘I don’t want you in this house.’

‘Please, Angie…’

‘You need to leave.’

‘But nothing happened,’ Jack insisted. ‘I would never cheat on you.’

‘But you nearly did. And it’s only a matter of time before you do.’