I spent Monday evening in front of the television with another bottle of wine and the rest of Paul’s cakes, jumping at every noise and listening for Jeff’s car. Finally, at 11pm, I sneaked outside and brought in the washing, and then I went to bed and drunkenly cried myself to sleep.

At dawn, I woke and thought of Paul Felix and what he had been about to say before Mr Simpkins descended on him. He was glad he stopped by, and if I ever…something.

If I ever wanted to rant about my husband’s infidelity again, please choose someone else to bore the backside off. I hoped Paul wouldn’t repeat what I’d told him: I couldn’t believe I’d opened up to a complete stranger, but he’d made me feel safe and a bit reckless at the same time.

Plus, he wasn’t a complete stranger. He’d saved my life. I relived the moment when we stood together outside the café, his arm around my waist, and heat soared through my body. Then I remembered I’d told Paul about Jeff’s appalling work history and the mystery lottery win, and a chill ran up my spine. I shivered, turned over, and pulled the duvet tighter around me.

Paul had been funny about the pigeons, though, and he hadn’t looked at me like I was mad or talking cobblers. And he’d stayed for coffee: coffee and confession.

“Oh, God.” I threw back the covers and got out of bed.

Once I’d showered, dressed and fed the Krays, I felt more optimistic about the day ahead. Sue was back from London, and together we’d work out what I should do next. I made toast and coffee, sat at the table, and wondered suddenly about money. I’d left my last job when we came to Lilac Cottage, and, before that, I’d left every job I had when Jeff changed his.

I’d mentioned looking for work when we moved in, and Jeff told me I needn’t bother; he earned enough to keep us both. Dexter Bay wasn’t exactly awash with employment opportunities, and Jeff didn’t want me travelling to Lufton or further away in the winter when the roads were dicey.

What a lovely, considerate husband I had.

I’d spent the year doing up the cottage, cooking meals and shopping, and thinking about writing that novel at last, although I never did. Jeff made fun of me every time I tried, so I gave up. My cheeks flamed. I felt like a character in a Dickens novel, mistreated by her wicked husband and abandoned. Maybe I should wrap a shawl around my head and go out and sing ‘Feed The Birds’ to the Krays.

Instead, I washed up, hauled the hoover out of the hall cupboard and roamed around the living room carpet, leaving wobbly trails and wondering about Nicola and how they’d met and where Jeff had been every day for the past three months.

Then I thought back to my job situation. There might have been another reason my husband wanted me to stay home - giving him space to have his affair, for instance. Maybe this woman lived in Lufton.

I switched the vacuum off and thought this over. Why would Jeff leave at 3am to drive to a town five miles away? That made no sense. NicolaX must live at a distance. Maybe they’d met online. Perhaps she was a mail-order bride, and Jeff saved up to buy her from a catalogue. Now he had the money, he might have gone ahead.

My mobile rang, shaking me from this bizarre train of thought. “Sue, hi, how was London?”

“Great.” Sue heaved an enormous sigh. “Then Colin fell and sprained his ankle getting out of a taxi last night – he was sober before you ask – and we had a hell of a time getting back on the train with him limping like Hopalong Cassidy and me lugging cases and cursing like a trooper.”

“Ohno, you should have said. I’d have picked you up at the station.”

“It’s okay; we had a cab booked.” She heaved another sigh. “Anyway, never mind us. What’s up with you?”

Now I had the chance, I didn’t want to speak. Things would seem real after I’d told Sue, there would be no going back or pretending Jeff would come waltzing through the door, and we’d carry on as usual.

But did I really want that anyway, even if it were possible?

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No. The short answer was I didn’t.

“Marnie?”

“Yeah, I’m here. It’s…Jeff.”

“Oh, what has he done now?”

“He’s left.”

“Left what?”

“Left me. Gone. Taken his stuff, well, some of it. Mr Simpkins saw him leave at 3am. I thought Jeff was going to a conference, but he didn’t. And there’s more.” My voice broke.

“Get yourself together and go to the corner. I’ll pick you up in ten. Okay?”

“Okay,” I managed to blub before hanging up and blowing my nose. Then I took my denim jacket, shoulder bag, purse, keys and phone and left the house.

Lilac Cottage is the corner house on a narrow, sloping road imaginatively named Hill Street, which winds up past Steeple Road – and, yes, there is a church at the other end of that one. The street behind that is Elder Lane, where Sue and Colin live in a detached Victorian villa that has been in Sue’s family for years. She’s six years older and was my babysitter when I stayed with my gran. Sue likes to say she was a good influence on me in my formative years, and then she laughs like a drain.

I left my garden, turned right, passed Mr Simpkins’ house and then Mrs Darrow’s, and walked to the junction where the promenade took over. Jeff had dubbed our two closest neighbours The Major, after the character in Fawlty Towers, and Widow Twankey, as he’d been convinced Mrs Darrow was a man in drag. She was a widow and very tall, much taller than Jeff.

But not as tall as Paul Felix, I noted with a smile. I hoped for Mr Simpkins' sake that Jeff was wrong about Mrs Darrow as I suspected the retired soldier had a thing for our neighbour. He always seemed to be popping into her house with flowers from his garden or offering to do odd jobs; that is when he wasn’t keeping an eye on me.

He never brought me flowers.

No one brought me flowers. Jeff never had, not even on birthdays or anniversaries.

I spotted Sue’s blue Honda approaching and stepped up to the kerb. She swerved to a halt, I got in, and she looked at me and said, “You look like – like you haven’t slept well in a good few days.”

I pulled the sun visor down, slid the vanity mirror open and looked at my face. “Oh, hell.”

“That’s what I was about to say until my innate sense of tact and diplomacy took hold.”

I snorted and almost managed a laugh.

“Tell me what’s happened.”

I related the story once more, keeping nothing back – apart from any mention of Paul Felix. I didn’t want to drag him into the sorry mix just yet. Maybe when some time had passed, and my life was back on track, I could pursue that lead.

Who was I kidding? I’d be down at that café every morning. And if he didn’t make a move, I might just pluck up the courage to do it myself.

I leaned against the headrest and waited while Sue digested my tale. We’d driven out of Dexter Bay and into Lufton. Now we wove through backstreets until we reached Cemetery Road – no prizes for guessing what that street contained – and parked outside the Dog and Duck pub.

Sue hauled the handbrake on and turned to face me. “Jeff left all this on the computer?”

“The emails, yes.”

“Think he wanted you to find them?”

I considered this. “Possibly, yeah…the coward’s way out.”

“I knew he was untrustworthy, but treating you like this? God.”

I looked at her. “You knew Jeff was untrustworthy? I never did. Why didn’t you say something?”

“Learned my lesson years ago with an old school friend. She married this jerk who cheated and lied, the same old thing every time. I listened, gave advice, and finally, she left him. She came round, we opened some wine, and trashed him royally. I told her every bad thought I’d ever had about him.”

“And?”

“They got back together, and I couldn’t look either of them in the face again.”

“Well, don’t worry about that. I won’t take Jeff back. Ever.”

We sat in silence for a while, staring through the windscreen as cars approached the cemetery and mourners emerged and waited on the pavement outside the enormous wrought-iron gates.

“I’m sorry, I have to go and do this. You could wait in the car or come with me.”

For the first time, I registered that Sue was dressed in black. “You’re going to a funeral?”

“One of Colin’s old bosses. He can’t go because of his ankle, so he asked me to deputise. Come with me; at the risk of sounding like your gran, the fresh air will do you good.”

I looked down at my faded jeans and Rolling Stones T-shirt with the tongue logo on the front. “I’m not exactly dressed appropriately.”

“Who cares? You can hide behind me; nobody will see. You’ve always been a bit of a rebel, anyway.”

“Have I?” We got out of the car, and I rummaged in my bag for my sunglasses.

“Yeah, you do your own thing, go your own way. Well, maybe not so much since you met Jeff.” Sue ran a hand through her hair, bleeped the car locked, and we started towards the cemetery. “He does keep you down.”

This was all news to me.

And yet, when I gave it some thought, it was true. “I think…on some level, I’ve always known that, but I ignored it to keep the peace. Or for security, or something. Maybe I should have stood up for myself more.”

“Don’t beat yourself up about this, Marnie. Nothing is your fault – blame Jeff.”