Later that week, Olivia left the town hall after the council meeting and went to find her bike at the rack. As she pedalled due west, up the high street towards her house, she shielded her eyes with one hand against the blinding light of the low sun and thought about what had been said by Leanne Knowles and the local police sergeant in their report to the councillors about the crime situation which was, as the council had acknowledged, all very unsettling.

‘And it’s not just the break-ins and the burglaries and the thefts – what about the kids doing drugs in the nature reserve?’ Olivia had asked when questions had been invited after the police had made their report.

‘I patrol it on a regular basis,’ said Leanne. ‘The trouble is they see me coming and run off.’

Olivia sniffed. It didn’t seem much of an excuse for not nabbing the little delinquents.

‘They shouldn’t be there in the first place.’

‘It’s a big public open space,’ said Leanne. ‘I can’t prevent people from using it.’

‘Even if they’re off their heads on drink or skunk or whatever they do?’ asked Olivia.

‘I can move them on and tell them not to come back if I think they may be committing antisocial behaviour – but, as I said, I have to catch them.’

‘I imagine you know who frequents this open-air drug-den,’ said Olivia. ‘The usual suspects, no doubt.’

‘A few probably are, yes.’

‘And, no doubt, they’re responsible for all the break-ins.’

‘We have no evidence as such,’ said the police sergeant, butting in.

‘But it stands to reason,’ said Olivia. ‘Everyone knows that drug addicts have to thieve to support their habits.’

‘Not all of them,’ said Leanne. ‘I’ve met a load of addicts who come from perfectly nice, middle-class families, much like your own. They’re the kids with the money and so they’re able to afford the drugs in the first place.’

As if, thought Olivia, as she pedalled up the hill. Her son and his fellow pupils at St Anselm’s had been brought up with decent values. Besides, St Anselm’s had a zero-tolerance policy to drugs and the kids wouldn’t risk losing their places for a puff on a spliff, she was absolutely sure about that.

As she neared the house the security system tripped and flooded the garden with light. That should put off any burglars, thought Olivia. She opened the garage door, pushed her bike inside and then locked it up, checking carefully that it really was secure before she let herself into the house.

‘Zac? Zac, I’m home.’

Silence. She wasn’t surprised as he’d only grunted at her since she’d stopped his allowance. Let him sulk, she thought.

She went into the kitchen and got a bottle of wine out of the rack. A nice Malbec was what the doctor ordered. She poured herself a glass and went to sit on the sofa before she picked up the remote and flicked through the channels. Nothing. Zilch. As she sipped her wine she heard the key in the lock. Instinctively she glanced at the clock – getting on for eight. As Nigel came into the house, Olivia picked up her wine and made her way into the kitchen.

‘Evening, darling. Have you had a good day at work?’

‘It was work.’

‘Drink?’ Olivia held up the bottle.

Nigel nodded. He came over to the counter as Olivia got out a glass, poured his wine and handed it to him.

‘Cheers,’ she said, clinking her glass against his.

‘The thing is, Ol, I’ve been thinking.’

Why, thought Olivia, did that sound ominous? But she said, ‘Really, darling,’ in what she hoped sounded was a bright and positive way.

Nigel went over to the sofa, put his drink onto the coffee table, and flopped down. He stared at his glass.

Olivia leaned against a worktop in the kitchen and resisted the temptation to tell him to spit it out.

‘The thing is, there’s a lot of financial uncertainty at the moment.’

Olivia narrowed her eyes. What was he beating up to? ‘And?’

‘And the markets are jittery.’

‘Yes, but...’

‘Things are unstable.’

‘But we’re all right.’ She said it as a statement of fact not as a question.

‘I don’t think anyone can be sure of that at the moment.’

‘What are you trying to tell me?’

‘I think we ought to release the equity in this house. I think we ought to downsize.’

Olivia had taken a sip of her drink and instead of swallowing it, she inhaled it. She coughed until her eyes watered. She finally got her breath.

‘Downsize,’ she gasped as she wiped the tears off her cheeks.

‘Yes. The other evening I had a look at those houses up behind the station on my way home. Well, I had a look at the show home; nothing else much is finished yet.’

‘But they’re crap. They’re being thrown up, they’re not solid and built to last like this place. I should know, I was at the planning meeting when they were approved.’

‘They’re not that bad.’

‘Huh.’ Olivia took a gulp of wine. ‘But why? Why the hell do you want to move – and to there?’

‘Face it, Ol, we don’t need a place as big as this. The kids have left home and Zac will be off to uni soon. We rattle around in this place and it costs a fortune to run.’

‘But it’s our home,’ she protested.

‘It’s a house.’

‘But what about Christmas – when everyone comes home for the holidays?’

‘So you’re telling me we keep this place going for a couple of days a year when the kids may or may not come and stay.’

‘Yes. And why not?’

‘Because it’s a waste of money.’

‘So? We can afford it.’

‘Yes, but if we both die then the kids get stuck with a vast inheritance tax bill.’

‘For God’s sake, Nigel, we’ve years ahead of us yet.’ Olivia stopped and stared at Nigel. ‘You’re not... you aren’t...?’

‘No. No, of course not.’

Olivia didn’t think there was any ‘of course’ about it; his shortness of temper, his erratic behaviour, and now this. ‘Really?’

‘Yes, really.’

She didn’t have much choice but to believe him. But if he was lying she could hardly call his bluff, march him down to Dr Connolly and demand an examination then and there. Besides, she was as fit as a fiddle and they both had to die before the kids got stung by a tax bill.

‘Then in that case I can see no reason at all for what you suggest.’

‘But, Ol—’

‘No, Nigel. This is my home. I love this house and that’s that.’

‘But think of the equity we’d release.’

Olivia drained her drink. ‘Which bit of “no” don’t you understand?’

‘And which bit of “this place is too big” don’t you understand?’

She stamped back into the kitchen to pour herself another glass of wine and cook dinner for herself and Nigel. Not that he deserved a decent meal after that, in her opinion.

*

Olivia lay on her back in bed, wide-eyed, staring into the dark. What the hell was going on? What exactly did Nigel mean about things being unstable and uncertain? Was he about to be shown the door? Had he already been shown the door? No, that didn’t make sense and anyway, he’d tell her, wouldn’t he? Yes, she’d read in the papers that house prices might fall but, given they’d bought this house for around two hundred grand when they’d first moved here and it was now worth well over a million, that wasn’t ever going to affect them. And yes, it was big and it wasn’t cheap to run but they could easily afford to on Nigel’s income. And it was the family home. However Olivia looked at Nigel’s desire to downsize, it didn’t add up. The only way any of it made sense was if he needed the money for something else.

Olivia turned her head on her pillow and looked at her sleeping husband. There was only one reason she could think why he might need a sum of money like they’d get from selling the house – and that was if he needed to buy another one, for himself... Two small houses rather than one big one. And there was only one reason why he’d want to do that that she could think of. She turned her head back to stare at the ceiling again.

Was that what he did on a Tuesday? Was that why his sports kit tended to look unworn? Was there a third person in the marriage? Silent tears slid down Olivia’s temples and onto the bed.

*

‘Good morning, Olivia,’ said Heather. She peered at her visitor. ‘Are you all right?’

‘No, no, I don’t think I am.’

Heather flung the door wide and tried not to think about everything she had had planned for the morning. Olivia looked awful and obviously needed a shoulder to cry on – that was if she had any tears left, because, by the look of her, she’d already cried a river.

‘Come in. Tea?’

‘I’d rather have a coffee.’

‘I’ve only got instant, will that do?’

Olivia nodded as Heather turned and led the way into the kitchen. Olivia took a seat at the kitchen table as Heather bustled around getting out mugs and the milk and putting the kettle on and wondered what on earth might have upset Olivia so badly.

Olivia stared at her wedding ring as she twisted it. ‘Heather, I’m worried.’

‘What about?’

‘Nigel.’

Heather wanted to tell Olivia that she was worried about her own husband and she really didn’t need someone else’s problems on top. But that wouldn’t have been Christian so she said, ‘Why, what’s he done?’

Olivia looked at Heather. ‘That’s it, I don’t know.’

Heather sat down opposite Olivia. ‘So...?’

‘He wants us to downsize.’

Heather shrugged. ‘Well, it is an awfully big house for just the three of you.’

‘I know, but he was talking about releasing the equity. Why?’

Heather felt that Olivia was talking to the wrong person if she wanted financial advice. She shrugged. ‘Is that so bad?’

‘But why? It isn’t as if we need the cash.’

‘He must have a reason.’

‘That’s the thing.’ Olivia’s eyes glistened with unshed tears. ‘If Nigel needs such a huge amount of money, I can only come to one conclusion.’

The kettle clicked off but Heather ignored it. ‘And?’

‘That he wants to buy another house.’

‘I’m not with you.’

‘For himself... if we sold The Grange we could afford two smaller houses.’

‘Oh. You mean...? You think...?’

Olivia nodded. ‘There’s something else.’

‘What?’

‘He says he plays badminton on a Tuesday night.’

‘You’ve lost me,’ murmured Heather. She turned round and made the tea and coffee.

‘Only I don’t think he does. He takes sports kit to work with him but it comes home pretty much as clean as it went.’ Olivia raised her eyes to meet Heather’s as Heather put the steaming mugs on the table. ‘So just what is he doing after work?’

‘You’ve got to talk to him.’

‘I’m so frightened of what the answer might be. Heather, we’ve been married for over thirty years and I know he’s not the easiest bloke on the planet, but he’s my bloke. I can’t bear the thought of being abandoned by him.’

Heather reached across the table and took Olivia’s hands in hers.

‘And supposing,’ continued Olivia, ‘he’s not having an affair. If I confront him about what he’s getting up to, it shows I’ve lost faith in him, that I don’t trust him, and what would that do to our relationship?’

‘I can see that.’ Heather thought for a moment. ‘You need to find out about the badminton for certain – one way or the other.’

‘But how?’

‘Ring his office?’

‘And say what? What possible excuse might I have to ask, without making it obvious that I think he’s lying to me?’

‘Good point.’ Silence fell as both women considered the problem.

‘I suppose,’ said Heather, ‘you could do something like take his trainers out of his sports bag, or take one out. If he really is playing and his kit got sabotaged then he’d be pretty mad and be sure to mention it.’

Olivia nodded. ‘And if he doesn’t, it means he isn’t. Bloody hell, Heather, you really are quite Machiavellian, aren’t you?’

Heather preened. ‘Thank you.’