‘You know what it is about. You do not need to be told that you are leading a double life, as you have been practising it for some time. I am here to relieve you of one of them. You can now enjoy the life you seem to prefer, without the nuisance of having to visit the one you are building in Blackburn.’

As she moved towards the door, Harold barred her way. ‘Please, Mags darling, let us talk. You have the wrong idea altogether – let me explain.’

‘Explain? How can you explain this sumptuous house that you told me was still being renovated from the ruins of the fire? It must have taken a fortune – all of your fortune – to build, and for what? To keep your maid in the style she’s become accustomed to? I don’t think such a situation can be explained to your supposed fiancée. Do you?’

‘I just don’t know you. What is this all about? I am not keeping Sus – I mean, any maid, or any woman – in any style whatsoever! How dare you accuse me of such a thing? You’re a naive, jealous woman from the back of beyond who has no sophistication, and no inkling of how to keep a man happy. You—’

‘In which case, you will be glad to see the back of me, won’t you?’

‘No!’ Harold’s stance changed, and his arms came out. ‘Oh, Mags, I can’t bear to lose you. I love you. I can explain. I can. Please give me a chance to. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have got angry and said those things, but turning up here unannounced and accusing me of wrongdoing . . . well, I just lost my head, that’s all. Let’s talk, please.’

‘Talk won’t do any good, unless you are prepared to admit the truth, face what you are and decide to make a new beginning. But even then, it will take me a long time to trust you and regain the willing, wholehearted love I gave you.’

Harold slumped into a chair and buried his head in his hands. Sobs racked his body, shocking Mags out of the defensive position she’d taken. She too sat down and melted into a flood of tears.

‘My dreams have been shattered, along with any faith that I had in you, Harold. Can you rebuild that?’

‘I – I don’t know. You have made your mind up about me. And yes, your conclusion is partly true, but not wholly. I am not as bad as you paint me. I have been through so much. I need time, but the one thing I cannot face is life without you, Mags. I – I can’t.’

Through her wretchedness, doubt trickled an element of hope into Mags. Have I got it all wrong?

Harold straightened, perhaps sensing her uncertainty, but as he wiped his face on a huge white handkerchief that he’d taken from his jacket pocket and blew his nose loudly, he didn’t look like a man who had gained a small victory, but rather like a small boy caught out in a misdemeanour. This suggested there was hope, for Harold’s repentance was the only way they could go forward. The only way he could make the necessary changes. And she so wanted that, for she didn’t want to lose him.