Bookcase, sofa, coffee table. Turn. Coffee table, sofa, bookcase. Turn. Bookcase…

The furniture blurred past the side of Kendra’s eye as she paced in her living room. Round and round she went, mimicking her thoughts.

Of all the scenarios she had run through over her torturous weekend, the only one that hadn’t entered her head was the very one that was now playing out. Dominique had clearly said nothing to Ben.

The selfish, cold, calculating cow.

What was Kendra supposed to do now? She had thought that Ben and Dominique would have split as a result of her revelation. At the least, she had hoped her own torture would be over. Instead, it just went on and on and on.

She should have known. She knew her lover’s wife well enough by now to realise she was a cold fish, but Kendra had massively underestimated how far the permafrost penetrated.

Curiosity had started Kendra down the road of stalking. Like any red-blooded woman, she had wanted to check out her competition as soon as she had found out that Ben was married.

She’d taken a sneaky peek on Facebook, pouring over the photographs of Ben with his glamorous wife. Snorting in derision because Dom was the same age as Ben, so Kendra had youth on her side. But intimidated by her beauty. Dominique looked like an older version of the Duchess of Cambridge, for goodness’ sake, though with olive skin and slightly (and only slightly) more meat on her bones. Her hair (or should that be ‘magnificent mane’) was the colour of mahogany, the sort of glossy shade only achieved in an expensive salon, and never from a home dye kit. Not that that had stopped Kendra from experimenting. She had wound up with hair that looked like a sunset, her blonde locks too pale for the dye, resulting in a strange pinkish orange hue that had taken several weeks to fade. Ben had thought it hilarious, although he had refused to be seen in public with her.

Those had been the days when he used to laugh. He never laughed now.

He had clearly laughed with his family back then, too. There were photos on their Facebook page of the smiling parents sitting on a log, grinning at each other, while the children gambolled (it was the only word for it, even though it made Kendra shudder). They gleefully threw golden leaves into the air, fingers outstretched, their faces upturned in delight at the soft sunshine slanting through tree trunks.

The perfection of the snap was, frankly, stomach-churning.

It was a scab Kendra couldn’t help picking at though, luxuriating in the pain it caused her. She eagerly hoovered up every titbit of information she could from the social media site. Ultimately, though, she had discovered little about the family’s actual day-to-day lives, or what their relationship was like. Either Dominique only posted around once a year, or her privacy settings were tight; but either way, there wasn’t much for Kendra to glean.

Still, that had been enough to satisfy her. Why torture herself with what Ben’s family was like when he clearly wasn’t happy with them – if he were he wouldn’t have taken up with her, would he? And she and Ben were perfect together in those first years.

When he had grown tired of not being able to see her because of her late nights as a barmaid, he had insisted on renting her a nice little flat in Charlton that was fairly close to his office and home. But far enough away that he felt comfortable. He had taken on all of her outgoings, in fact, so she had given up work.

‘You don’t need to worry about money when you’re with me, I’ll take care of you. I don’t want anything taking away my time with you, nothing getting in the way of us being together,’ Ben had said. She had felt so special.

Being a kept woman was a wonderful feeling, luxurious.

It wasn’t only the practicalities Ben took care of either. He lavished her with expensive jewellery.

‘I’ve got to buy you beautiful things because everything looks dowdy compared to you,’ he used to say.

Once, he had even jetted her to New York for a long weekend, and bought her a necklace from Tiffany’s. He had taken a snap of her outside the famous jewellers, striking an Audrey Hepburn pose. It was now in a frame by her bed. She had never been able to share it on Facebook or tell friends about it because then she would have had to field awkward questions about who she had gone with.

So much of her life was secret, she thought with a sad sigh, slowing the manic pacing slightly. Friends she had once been close to had drifted away, either tired of her secrecy or judgemental of the life she chose to lead as a kept mistress. Her family knew nothing of her lifestyle and all thought she was terminally single.

‘I don’t understand it. You’re a beautiful lass,’ her mum constantly told her.

She couldn’t wait for the day she could finally show her man off to the world. But over the past twelve months Ben’s interest had waned. He was distant and distracted. When she spoke, he nodded and made the right noises, but she could tell he hadn’t been listening.

She was terrified he was going to end things with her. That he had finally made his decision over who he loved more – and she had come a poor second.

At first, she had fought back by going to the gym more, losing the weight she had put on with all the meals they had together. Jogging, free weights, swimming, and yoga. There wasn’t a bit of her that didn’t ache every single day, but it had paid off. By their fourth anniversary at the end of July, she looked great.

Ben had lamented the loss of her curves. That was the only comment he had made about it. Said he liked having something to grab hold of. She had smiled a bright, shiny smile, then turned away to blink back the tears tickling to break through, while cutting herself a large slice of the cake she had bought for them from Patisserie Valerie, and viciously shoving a strawberry into her champagne flute.

That had also been the first time Ben had forgotten their anniversary. To make up for it, the next day he had presented her with one-carat diamond stud earrings in a platinum claw setting. She had been warring with herself ever since over whether to be mollified by the beautiful earrings (she had looked online to see how much they cost) or to be infuriated that he thought he could get around her simply by throwing money at the problem.

In the end, she had kept quiet because she didn’t want to rock the boat too much. Not when her grip on him was slipping, and without him she felt she would drown.

Instead, she had got her curves back – which had been disturbingly easy – and splashed out on Agent Provocateur lingerie in order to spice things up in the bedroom. They had never had any problems in that department, but lately Ben had problems rising to the occasion. He often blamed her and it caused rows. Her already fragile self-esteem chipped away further. He fancied his wife more than her, clearly.

That was when Kendra had moved from checking out Dominique on Facebook to following her in real life. She had remembered that Friday years before, when she had followed Dominique to the hairdresser’s and then lunch, and wondered if she still went there. On the off-chance, she had tried – and there Dominique was, in all her slender, expensive perfection.

Following her was a one-off, Kendra told herself. But it’s amazing how quickly a one-off can slide into a habit. And habit was only one step away from addiction.

Kendra often sat beside Dominique, and the stupid woman had no idea her rival was within touching distance of her. Instead, she sat gossiping with her friend, while Kendra listened in, unmolested. It had given her such a thrill of excitement knowing that, at least, in some ways, she had the upper hand over Dominique.

She often pretended to read a book as she ate alone, while all the time listening in on the pair’s conversations. She had learned an awful lot about Fiona’s love life and her intense dislike of Ben – which had almost made Kendra slap the annoying, loud-mouthed bitch. She made herself stay still, clenching her thighs together to keep them in place, fighting the urge to march to their table, swallowing down the words that leapt into her mouth to defend poor Ben.

It had been worth it. Dominique was discreet, but she dropped enough hints to show she was unhappy in her marriage – and that she knew Ben was, too.

That titbit had been enough to keep Kendra going and make her heart soar. It had been the sustenance that had fed her strength, keeping her going when she had doubts about whether or not she was doing the right thing. She was so close to getting what she wanted that to give up now would be ridiculous.

It was always darkest before the dawn, her old gran had always told her, and so she knew that the toughest moments were immediately before the breakthrough occurred. She was at her darkest moment, and felt ashamed of what desperation was driving her to. But she would keep on, and soon she would be in the light; she and Ben would no longer have to be a deep, dark secret. What she was doing was for the greater good, so how could there possibly be any harm in that?

She tapped at her teeth, deep in thought, and started pacing again.

Bookcase, sofa, coffee table. Turn. Coffee table, sofa, bookcase. Turn. Bookcase…