Helen typed in the date of Hugh’s anniversary to Francesca. Valentine’s Day in 1998. He used to tell the kids that story so often – how his romantic proposal went so wrong with a power cut, food poisoning from their takeaway and her tripping over in shock at his grand gesture and fracturing her wrist. He said he should’ve known their marriage was doomed, but there was always a wistfulness to his voice when he recounted it.

The screen came to life. It would seem Matt was perhaps not the only man in this house pining for someone he couldn’t have.

The first page was Hugh’s Gmail. There were two email addresses sending him repeated messages. She opened the top email, received yesterday morning, and found a video attachment. She watched the first few seconds and had to turn it off. Peter had made good on his threat to tell Hugh about them, had even sent video evidence. He wanted money, was threatening to drop the video onto the internet. But why hadn’t Hugh said anything last night?

Helen felt sick to her stomach. That explained his pallor when she interrupted him before they left for the restaurant.

And why had Peter changed his mind to go straight to Hugh with his threats instead of her? He probably thought Hugh was the one with the money and the big house. Fool.

She opened another email, this one from a different sender. It was another demand for money. An even larger sum. The request was backed by a threat to disclose what they knew, to spread malicious gossip through the school about photographs found in the history teacher’s home.

Attached to the email was one of the photographs. Different to the one that fell out onto the carpet the other day, but the same girl in her swimsuit, her legs spread, a thin strip of material protecting her modesty and leaving very little to the imagination.

Helen looked closer this time. The girl’s eyes were closed, but there was no denying who it was.

She opened some more emails. More requests for money in return for silence – and from the replies, it looked like Hugh had been paying up.

Helen then clicked on Hugh’s search history. It was full of online gambling sites from last night. So that was what Hugh was doing instead of sleeping.

On a whim, she opened his desk drawers and started rummaging through the papers. Eventually she found what she was looking for, shoved to the back of the drawer. His bank statement.

The bank account was in overdraft. Helen had never known him to go into overdraft. He was the kind of person that paid off his credit card completely every month, never overstretching himself, never living above his means.