‘Erm, look, Viv, I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad tidings …’ My heartbeat accelerates. Does Tim know about Estelle? Does everyone know? ‘… but we have rats in the garden,’ he goes on. ‘Seen them a few times so a council guy’s coming round tomorrow to check things out. Is it okay if he has a poke around your garden too?’

I blink at him. ‘Rats?’

‘Well, yes,’ he says, looking regretful now, as if he feels somehow responsible for their arrival. ‘And if they’re in our garden, they’re probably in yours. I don’t think they respect boundaries …’ I watch our neighbour’s fleshy mouth moving as he carries on talking, but nothing seems to make sense anymore. I think he’s talking about poison, something about rats tending to follow a specific route. All I can think is: Andy says he loves her. He’s sleeping with her. My husband has an entire parallel life with this woman that I’ve known nothing about.

‘Oh, Viv,’ Tim exclaims, looking aghast now. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. Was it something I—’

‘No, no, you haven’t upset me, Tim. I’m fine …’ I realise I am crying.

‘It’s just rats,’ he adds, brow furrowed in concern as he hurries closer and peers at me over the fence. ‘Not ideal, I know, but they’re everywhere these days. The guy’ll put poison down in little bags, buried in the ground …’

I nod, wordlessly, as tears continue to roll down my cheeks.

‘Honestly, it’s nothing to worry about,’ he goes on, looking quite distraught at the state of me. As parents, he and his wife might be spectacularly ineffective – ‘We don’t believe in saying no,’ Chrissie told me recently – but Tim is a decent, well-meaning man. He’s not a cheating bastard of a husband.

‘Worse things happen,’ he adds as I dab at my face with my sweater sleeve.

‘It’s not the rats, Tim—’

‘Oh …?’

‘It’s something else.’ I glance up at our frosted bathroom window with light coming through it, where Andy – ‘Sweetie’ – is currently marinating in bubbles, oblivious to my distress.

‘Is it, um, anything I can help with?’

‘No, I’m sorry, and it’s fine – about the rat man,’ I blurt out, marching towards the house, thinking, He can concrete over our entire garden for all I care.

Inside now, I run upstairs and rap sharply on the bathroom door.

‘Still in the bath,’ Andy calls out in a jovial tone.

‘Could you open the door?’

‘Mmm?’ The water sloshes. ‘Won’t be long …’

‘Andy,’ I bark.

‘Can’t you use the downstairs bathroom?’