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one of deepest sympathy. ‘I never realized Malachy was back with you.’
    â€˜He’s not!’ I snapped. ‘I just assumed this fellow thought he was.’
    Nobody spoke after that. I think they all thought I’d taken leave of my senses. After a moment Tansy turned back to the house, presumably to finish her primping. Taking no chances, her boyfriend promptly followed. Once they were safely inside, I found Martin steering me firmly back up the path towards my own doorway. ‘Good night, Lois.’
    â€˜Good night, Martin. Sorry. I’m really, really sorry. Thanks for being so nice about it.’
    â€˜That’s all right, Lois. Better get back in, though. Isn’t that your phone?’
    I went inside and crumpled. On my slide down to the floor I glowered at the wedding photo I’d lifted down on my first Stuart-cleansing trawl but then put back because the little pale patch on the wall had so annoyed me. This time there would be no reprieve. Each careless glance its way was a reminder that my husband had taken advantage of
for better
, then let me down when Malachy and his druggy entourage had turned our life together into
for worse
.
    I’m finished too, now. I found myself thinking the words as clearly as if I’d spoken them aloud. If we had married in church, I might well have agreed to stick with you for richer, for poorer and even in sickness and in health. But no one in her right mind would promise to stick things out through silence and deception.
    The phone cut off, then started to ring again. Still, I felt stronger, knowing that first thing on Monday morning I’d start proceedings for divorce. It meant I’d have to deal with the terrifying fallout from Malachy’s indebtedness all by myself. But when had Stuart ever been a help with things like that? I could fit extra door locks, check the window catches – even phone back and ask PC Wood if I could put in one of those alarms that ring straight through to the station. No doubt the damn things cost the earth, but never mind. How long did dealers persecute the kids they snared? Weeks? Months? Or would this added nightmare, like Malachy’s miserable addiction, go on for years?
    And then it struck – the thought that brought my calculations to a halt. Where was the rule that said that only one person in a marriage could disappear? Stuart had shown the way. He’d slid out of job and home without a trace. If I in turn wanted to rid myself of the miasma of trouble that clung to Malachy, what better way of doing it than vanishing myself?

7
    WITHIN A WEEK I had embarked on three new ventures. I’d been in touch with a solicitor to file for a divorce. I’d started looking for a brand new job. And I’d arranged for the house to be put on the market.
    I told the estate agent my husband worked abroad. (‘But he’s left all the paperwork I need to sign for the sale.’) She didn’t appear to think it strange that I wanted no signs outside the house, or advertisements in the papers. Indeed, she implied that slipping the word only to parties she thought might take a real interest in a property of this sort might work in my favour.
    And so it seemed. Martin leaned over the fence a couple of times to tell me, ‘Jan says that woman with the red Renault let herself into your house again today, Lois. She had an elderly couple with her this time.’
    I had become as glib a liar as my son. ‘Showing her parents round, I expect. I take it Jan told you I’m renting out one of the bedrooms?’
    â€˜A good idea. I’m sure you could do with the company.’ (Ah, so the Tallentires had realized I was now alone.) From Martin’s tone I grasped the hidden message: ‘That might keep you sane,’ and once again the certainty that talk of my frenzied attack on Tansy’s boyfriend was running up and down the street set my stomach a-squirm. So I took little