‘They wanted me to conduct another inquiry to clear his name.’

‘Yes, you said. It seems a strange thing to do.’

‘They have new intel,’ Kate said.

‘Like what?’

‘I’d better keep that to myself for now, but Fiona was right. There was a sting in the tail.’

Stuart took another sip of his whisky. He sat up straighter, bringing his knees to his chest. ‘Something tells me this is not good news.’

‘If I don’t agree to play their game, they’ll stop your visits to the West. Permanently.’

There was a long, long silence. Stuart didn’t move a muscle, but Kate felt the tension gather in him.

‘I see,’ he said.

‘Do you? Because I’m not sure I do.’

‘What did you say to him?’

‘I called him out for the ruthless, unprincipled bastard he is.’

Stuart didn’t answer.

‘I have no choice, of course,’ she said.

‘You do. You can and will say no. You – we – have to put the children first.’

‘Precisely. Not seeing you for a few months, let alone years, would break their hearts. So, even as I raged against him, I knew I had to accept. And so did he.’

‘And what do you think?’

‘About what?’

‘The prospect of not seeing me again.’

Kate had not expected anything so direct. She sat up, trying to overcome a stab of irritation. Why was it that men always wanted everything in black and white? No sooner had she started to feel something than Stuart wanted it itemized. ‘Shall we just not go there?’

‘I was so excited in the build-up to this trip. And, wonderful as they are, it wasn’t simply the prospect of seeing Gus and Fi.’

‘It was probably relief at the release from a life of tedium in Moscow.’

Stuart didn’t reply. He stared dead ahead. And something about his demeanour – his vulnerability, perhaps, the sincerity of his love – touched her again. She turned and rested her head in his lap. Stuart leant back against the slope so that he could cradle her more comfortably.

All Kate could think of was how much she felt like crying. Was that love, or relief, or fear, or regret at what they’d once had and might now have permanently lost?

She could hear her husband’s heart beating. There was a sense of excitement at being so close to him, which she hadn’t felt since they’d first become lovers half a lifetime ago.

Stuart began, with infinite gentleness, to stroke her forehead and curl her hair in his fingers, as he knew she loved.

Kate closed her eyes. The sound of cicadas, the crisp night air, the warmth of his touch beguiled her into a peace she hadn’t felt for many months.

He began to massage her neck gently and she knew she should tell him to stop. She was aware she sought some kind of clarity in these moments, or at least emotional consistency, but found only lonely confusion, as the comforting pull of familiarity wrestled the bitter taste of his betrayal. What wouldn’t she give to turn back time?