Well, that had escalated quickly. Helen didn’t know Sally had it in her.

At least the cream was hiding the redness in Helen’s cheeks. Another waiter rushed over and attempted to wipe her nose, but she waved him away. Hugh was flapping around, unsure what to do. He followed Benito to the bar area to settle the bill, his embarrassment apparent in his stiff back and reddened neck.

Helen wanted to laugh out loud again, was about to do just that when she noticed someone standing outside the restaurant window. Thinking it was Sally again, Helen turned to the window, licking cream from her fingers, this time more prepared for round two.

But it was her. She was standing metres away on the other side of the thin glass, smiling in amusement.

Helen stared in disbelief.

Then she turned and walked away slowly, her hands tucked into her sleeves, her head bowed.

*

They sat in the car in silence. Helen’s hair was cloying and sticky, her cheeks still enflamed. Hugh started the car, his eyes determinedly focused straight ahead.

“Why did she say that? Why did she do that?” he asked then.

“I don’t know,” Helen replied, knowing it sounded thin. Her fighting spirit was rapidly deflating, like a collapsing pool inflatable at the end of the summer holiday. The excitement over; reality kicking in; excuses to be made. “I guess he must’ve told her a story about why he was fired. Maybe he was embarrassed – you know, male pride. He didn’t want to admit he had failed, so he told her something else, spun her a lie about why I fired him. Who knows.”

“Maybe,” he said, lacking conviction.

They drove the rest of the way in silence.

Helen let herself out of the car rather than waiting for him to open her door for her. They needed to talk, but Hugh was stoically non-confrontational at the best of times and it was annoying her tonight. She would’ve preferred shouting, accusations, anything but his polite dismissal. Everything indicated that he knew about her and Peter – or suspected – so why not challenge her on it?

But then, she knew there was something going on between him and Diana, and yet she had said nothing. She was as bad as he was. Best to just keep calm and carry on as though everything was fine.

She was disappointed in herself.

He was still sitting in the car, his hands clutching the steering wheel even though the engine was off, when she rooted in her small handbag for her front door keys. She pushed open the door onto chaos.

Matt and Lydia stood in the hallway, screaming at each other, mouths spitting, hands waving, him towering over her but her not backing down. Mills sat on the stairs, watching it play out in front of her as though she was at Wimbledon, ridiculously with her hand tucked into a large bag of popcorn.