Although he had spoken to me, he didn’t seem to hear my reply. He just wandered restlessly around the office. I stared at the paper, and tried to make sense of what I had just learned. There was so much of it that I could only process it in fragments. David was one of Milena’s lovers. Those tender, effusive emails had been from him—he was usually so ironic and amused. Milena had sat in this office reading his messages, writing to him, while Frances had been in the same room just a few feet away. How could he have done it? With her friend and colleague? Right under her nose? How could she have done it? Or was I reading it the wrong way? Was that part of the excitement? They say that there’s no point in gambling for small amounts of money. It has to hurt when you lose. Maybe it’s the same with infidelity. Anyone can have a one-night stand on a business trip, at a conference in another country. The real thrill is doing it like an illusionist, risking discovery at every moment, witnessing your victim’s lack of knowledge.

When I thought of Milena’s messages, the chill of them, the manipulation, I wondered if she was more interested in the power than in the sex. Was sex for her just a demonstration that she could have any man she wanted? That she could triumph over any woman, in any circumstances? Was it likely that Greg could have held out against that? Was he so different from the others?

I tried to remember what David had said to me about Milena and Frances. In all those conversations when I had been lying to him, he had been lying to me, as he had also been lying—had he?—to Johnny and Frances. Well, if he had, he wasn’t the only liar. There was Frances, with her own infidelity. They had been betraying each other.

“Is Frances around?”

I felt like someone very, very drunk trying to imitate someone sober and not knowing whether the act was convincing or ludicrous. “I don’t know,” I said, enunciating each word carefully. “She’s seeing the printers sometime this afternoon.”

“Don’t worry,” said David. “I can phone her.”

I couldn’t stand this any longer. I stood up and reached for my jacket. David gave me the appraising look I always found so hard to read.

“I’m not driving you away, am I?”

“I’ve got a meeting,” I said. “I have to go.”

“At your school?” he asked.

“No,” I said, and stopped myself elaborating. I didn’t want to risk any lies I might trap myself inside. “Could you tell Frances I’ll give her a ring?”

I walked to the door. Just as I was opening it, I heard David call my name. What was it? Had I made a mistake?

“Sorry, Gwen, I forgot.”

“What?”