Grace considered briefly whether she should tell Charles what she was up to. She generally shared most things with him – wasn’t that what you did in a marriage? – and he would listen to her attentively and make some light-hearted comment in response. Her husband never took life terribly seriously. It was one of the things she loved most about him. However, on this occasion she thought she might keep her escapade to herself. It was a shame – Charles would probably enjoy the espionage element. It was the kind of thing that he read about in those spy books that he devoured, and she could just picture herself telling him the story, with suitably spy-like embellishments to make him laugh. That said, she felt a certain sensitivity surrounding the subject of Ray as far as Charles was concerned. If ever she raised the subject of his half-brother, Charles would close the conversation down. Even though she had tried to make him feel less awkward about Ray’s colourful past, it was obvious that Charles believed he had fulfilled his obligations to his half-brother by buying the house and wanted nothing further to do with him. All things considered, it would probably be better to tell Charles what she had done after the event, rather than before.

In any case, he was away with the orchestra just then. Some concerts down south somewhere. She couldn’t remember the exact details, but she wouldn’t be speaking to him unless he rang from a convenient payphone. No, the trip would be fine, she decided. She would go and be back before anyone missed her and no one need know where she had been.

Grace kissed the children goodbye in the school playground as usual and watched them go in, their little straw hats bobbing up and down in the crowd of other little straw hats. Then she went back to the car and set off for the coast.

She had already located the street in Whitley Bay on the battered AA atlas that lived in the boot of the car. It looked pretty easy to find, just a turning left off the main coast road once you got into the town. How hard could it be? Grace had butterflies at the cloak-and-daggeriness of it all, and she smiled at herself in the rear-view mirror as she started the engine.

It was a sharp morning. The children had entertained themselves blowing plumes of dragon’s breath into the chilly air. Now she turned the car heater up to full, shivering slightly until it altered the ambient temperature. She wasn’t sure whether she was shivering because of the cold or her nerves.