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my eye and grinned. Who else had seen us? I wondered, with intense unease. I took her arms in my hands and, forcibly, placed them by her sides.
    She looked so crestfallen, so hurt, but I had to go.
    ‘Good night,’ I said, and walked away.

5. Caroline
    I’m not the first person whose marriage has been rocked by an affair. Every day millions of people all over the world are unfaithful to their loved ones. I don’t know why I was so surprised when it happened to me. But one of the things I learned during the crisis is that people can find different paths back to each other. Not every journey is the same. For me, the only way to deal with all that hurt, anger and resentment was to seek counselling. Talking things out, examining my life and some of the choices I had made, helped me come to terms with what had happened. David was supportive of the therapy, although when I suggested that we attend some sessions together, he balked at the idea. I’m not saying he didn’t make an effort to mend things between us but his response was different from mine. I needed to talk it through, to pick over the past in order to understand what had happened. David’s response was to buy a new kitchen. For a man who has made a career out of examining and understanding the past, his reluctance to plough through the history of our marriage to fix it was baffling to me. I’m not saying I didn’t recognize the love underlying the renovation project. It was just another example of how, after twenty-odd years of being together, there are times when my husband still seems unknowable.
    The crisis in our marriage happened quickly – a lightningbolt – but resolved itself slowly, seeping away, like water finding a drain. I have learned that there are several steps – significant markers – along the path to reconciliation. The first time you have sex after the betrayal has been discovered (for us, it was four months later). The first time you share a joke, laughing together in a way that feels unencumbered by the wrangling and negotiations surrounding your decision to stay together. The first time he comes home from work and leans in to kiss you hello in a way that feels meaningful rather than dutiful. Slowly, the different elements of your life together are reasserted, carefully put back in place. At times it feels difficult, awkward, even fake, like you’re just playing at being married to each other. At other times the pieces fit naturally into place, giving you hope.
    When Zoë came into our lives, a year had passed since the affair. Even though we were well on our way to patching things up, the fissure in our marriage was still there. I wonder now, if that fault-line hadn’t existed, would things have been different? If our marriage had been stronger, would we have been able to resist her?
    Most of our friends don’t know about the affair. Chris and Susannah were the only ones we told, but I’m sure others must have wondered, because for a whole year we slipped off the circuit. It was easier to avoid other people than to present a united front. We turned down invitations to dinner, to drinks, to the theatre, emailing apologies for not showing up at Christmas parties, fortieth birthdays, housewarmings. Neither did we issue any invitations of our own, which must have seemed unusual – before it happened, we regularly entertained at home. We used thehouse renovation as an excuse, but really it was because neither of us felt able to go through the choreographed dance of host and hostess when we were still, to an extent, tiptoeing around each other.
    On that particular Friday evening – the Friday I’m remembering – it was the first time we had invited friends round since our marriage had unravelled. A significant marker in the knitting together of our relationship. I had invited Peter, my boss, an amiable man, and his wife, Anna, whom I didn’t know very well. Chris and Susannah completed the party.
    That evening the rain was coming