In the fading light of the afternoon, Benjamin stalked to the Prince of Wales pub, overlooking Blackheath’s open heath. The place was rammed with people celebrating. Spontaneous renditions of ‘Merry Christmas Everybody’ broke out every now and again. One set of blokes was particularly keen on doing a screaming Noddy Holder impression – to much eye-rolling from the bar staff.

He didn’t want to spend his afternoon there, but where else could he go? There was nowhere left to run. All options exhausted. He settled at a table in a corner as far from the singers as possible, and sank into an armchair. He popped a couple of antacids: thought and crunched, crunched and thought.

The look on Dominique’s face as she had told him about Kendra plagued him.

He didn’t understand how she had found out. He thought he’d been so careful, with a separate SIM card for contacting his mistress. The paperwork for the flat he had bought and now ‘rented’ to Kendra was well hidden. Being an accountant, he took care of all the family’s finances, so there was no way Dominique could have stumbled across anything. The pregnancy test lay in his pocket. So where had he slipped up?

He had intended to confess all as soon as he got home, of course. And the confrontation between him and his wife had been the perfect moment to tell Dominique everything. Instead, he had panicked and picked a fight, defaulting to his position of complete wanker. The knowledge made him hot with guilt and anger all over again.

It was Dom’s fault, though. Taking him by surprise like that, he’d felt ambushed. After that there was no chance he could tell her about the financial storm heading their way.

Anyway, she had no right, no right at all, to lay down the law. Did she think she could take the house from him? The kids? If she thought she and her pal Fiona could clean him out in a divorce she’d be disappointed with the results – unless she wanted the shirt off his back.

His fingers drummed on the table, its surface tacky with drink spilled by a previous occupant.

He couldn’t lose Dom. He couldn’t cope.

What would people say? They would think he wasn’t a real man; a real man could keep his family together.

The way she had looked at him as though he had let her down. It was her fault. If she had been a better wife he never would have looked elsewhere – he wouldn’t have had to.

Dominique was still beautiful, had a great body, and was intelligent. She would find someone else. Take a new lover, fall in love, even. The thought of another man’s hands on her made Benjamin furious. No way was he going to ever let that happen. He’d die before that happened.

She would die before he let it happen.

She was not going to steal his family from him. Why did she assume the children would be better off with her?

Because he was going to be in jail soon.

He shook his whole body free of the thought, dog-like.

No, he was not going to let anyone else take anything from him. He would not lose control of his family. He would do whatever it took to keep his family together. Dominique couldn’t be trusted anyway, not with this weird sleepwalking business. She was dangerous. What if she hurt herself or the kids?

If she did, Benjamin’s money worries would be over. There was that thought again. A lightning strike of selfishness. It was true, though. He and Dominique both had generous life insurance policies.

He barked a laugh. Just to show himself he was joking. A sick joke, but just a joke.

As if he’d ever hurt his family.

The family Dominique was going to steal from him.

She’d find someone else. She’d turn the children against him. He would be in jail and disgraced, unable to fight back.

He ordered a double whisky on the rocks and thought the unthinkable. The pub’s walls seemed to be closing in. He couldn’t lose his family, too. He needed to take back control. He needed to keep them with him. No matter what it took. If that meant them all being together in death, then so be it. He’d be showing the world, shouting from the grave: ‘Look at me. Look how powerful I am.’

The thought was so strong that Benjamin found himself growing hard. He shifted to accommodate the growing erection, his hand lingering on himself for a little longer than necessary, marvelling at the reaction he had produced. Feel that. That was how strong he was. Proof positive that he was a real man.The Man.

A real man killing the people he loved.

It was ridiculous. Unthinkable. His penis curled up, a snail retreating into its shell of shame.

But he didn’t mean it. It was purely an abstract to occupy his mind.

If he were going to do it – which he wasn’t – he would get it over and done quickly. Like ripping off a plaster. He wouldn’t want anyone to suffer. This was simply a way of them all being together and happy.

If he didn’t do it then the kids would lose everything anyway. They’d be picked on, laughed at, face the humiliation of having a loser jailbird as a father. They’d have to live in some slum, owing rent to a dodgy landlord who’d rip them off. Barely enough money to afford to eat or heat the place. Every day a slog. He couldn’t do that to them. It was kinder this way.

Not that he was actually going to do it.

He could use the shotgun. It would be quick. Painless. Relatively. Perhaps he could chloroform them all first, so they would have no idea what was coming, no chance to feel fear. He wasn’t a monster, after all. He couldn’t stand the thought of hurting them. No, he’d be sending them to a better place, where they could all be together for ever, and happy.

That was a nice thought, actually. All the worry and pain and arguments would be over. They would all be together, at peace.

What if the rifle was too long for him to be able to shoot himself?

Maybe he could take a load of tablets first, enough to kill him, but he’d have time while they worked to do what needed to be done with his wife and children. Then, if he couldn’t shoot himself, he would simply drift away and join his family anyway.

The thought of going to sleep and never waking up comforted Benjamin.

Around him, another rousing chorus of ‘Merry Christmas Everybody’ started up.