‘It’s so quiet here.’ Louise knew James was awake.

‘You’re the one who wanted peace and quiet,’ came his tired reply.

She sat up in the bed. ‘Perhaps we should’ve gone to Greece.’

He groaned. ‘I suggested Greece, remember?’ His breathing became louder with obvious irritation. ‘You said, a cottage in Cornwall. Somewhere away from civilisation.’

‘I know what I said, James.’

‘Well, we’re here now so make the best of it.’ He turned over and she felt the draught of his movement.

Louise stared about the room but could only see darkness. Outside, no street lights brightened up the surroundings. No traffic hummed or headlights spanned the warm room to distract her from her troubled mind.

‘It’s so bloody silent,’ she whispered.

‘It’s due to the fact that we’re at least six miles from the nearest hamlet and slap bang in the middle of a field,’ came the weary response.

Louise swung her legs out from under the duvet and getting up, padded over to the low window to peer out onto black velvet. ‘I can hear my thoughts,’ she said. ‘They’re like loud voices.’ A sound came from the bed; a sighing sound and then silence. ‘They’re telling me how stupid I’ve been. They’re saying I should make my mind up instead of hedging my bets. Stop pretending.’

‘Lou!’ She heard him pound his pillow. ‘For God’s sake, what are you on about? Are you going bloody mad?’

She sat on the window’s wide sill and felt a breath of wind brush her face. ‘I don’t think I love you, James. I really don’t think I do.’

The bedside lamp flashed on. James sat up, hair tousled. ‘You what?’

‘I tried to forgive you,’ Louise told him. ‘I tried to pretend that bitch didn’t exist. That you’d fucked her when I was pregnant and after Anna’s birth. But I can’t pretend or forgive anymore.’

His face paled. His mouth clamped shut like a petulant juvenile. Then he raised a hand out towards her, saying, ‘It was only a fling, Lou. When you were pregant and then lost the baby, I couldn’t speak, touch or get near to you.’

‘WE LOST OUR BABY DAUGHTER!’ Louise jumped to her feet. ‘She was ours. Our child. You choose her name, remember? But it’s always about you, isn’t it? Poor James. Never mind James. I’ll kiss it and make it bloody better, James.’ A pain seared her chest. She gasped. Inhaled deeply and then in a quieter tone, said, ‘No more pampering to your whims, James. No more blaming myself when things don’t go your way. You’re just one big selfish, egotistical bastard.’

Louise stalked out of the room, down the rickety stairs, out through the kitchen door and stood in the silent garden. An owl hooted close by. Another owl screeched back. Now Louise knew what she must do. What she should’ve done, six months ago. End her marriage. Cut that invisible, umbilical cord that had tied her to James over the past eight years.