I looked at the workmen tucking into their fried breakfasts and then back at Ginger.

‘I don’t know.’

‘Well, you have to do better than that.’

I took a deep breath and held it for so long it became a stifled sob.

‘I feel like I wandered away from my real life. Just for a little while. It felt like – what did it feel like? – it felt like freedom. And now I’m being punished.’ Tears of self-pity flooded my eyes and I angrily blinked them away. ‘And suddenly everything feels so … breakable.’ I took a breath. ‘I can’t lose my family, Ginger.’

‘Exactly where were these photos taken?’

‘At the Park Hyatt in Tokyo.’

‘And who took them?’

‘The man I met over there.’

She shook her head.

‘A man you met on your business trip?’

‘I know it’s a cliché, Ginger.’

She waited, wanting more. ‘Who is this guy?’ she said at last.

‘James Caine.’ His name sounded strange in my mouth. ‘I met him at the conference. He gave me some great advice about public speaking. We talked. We bumped into each other again in the hotel bar. We had a few drinks.’

‘And that’s it? You risk your family – your life – for some stranger you meet in a bar?’

‘We didn’t meet in a bar,’ I said weakly. ‘And there was an earthquake.’

She looked at me as if I was lying. ‘I didn’t hear about any earthquake.’

‘Because they happen every day! Because you only hear about the ones when lots of people die!’

Ginger pushed the phone across the table.

‘Christian will kill him,’ she said, and I felt the sick dread rise in me, even worse now.

‘Christian’s not going to kill him,’ I said, snatching up my phone. ‘Because Christian doesn’t kill people. And because Christian is never going to know.’

She shook her head and sighed.

‘This is the way other people act,’ she said. ‘Not you. Look at your life! You’ve got Christian, you’ve got Marlon, you’ve got your business, you’ve got so much! You’ve got your lovely home. You’ve got your bloody dog. You put all that at risk – for what? A casual shag on a business trip?’

‘It was wrong,’ I said. ‘I know it was wrong.’

‘Then why, Tara?’

I had thought about it non-stop. I found that I was thinking about it in my sleep, and when I woke up, and when I was looking at the faces of next month’s men with Mary. And I wanted to say I was drunk, or I was tired, or I took one of those missteps that we are all capable of taking in any life, no matter how lucky, no matter how blessed. That one wrong step that takes you off the edge of the cliff and into thin air.

‘It’s hard to explain,’ I said slowly. ‘Things at home – they’re good. They’re great. Christian is my man forever. He is. But that side of it – the intimacy – has been put aside a little bit because all this other stuff keeps getting in the way. Work. Being tired. The house and all the things that go wrong with the house. And – time. There’s not as much time for just us as there used to be. I guess I felt – if I’m honest, Ginger – like I had earned some pleasure that didn’t hurt anyone.’