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nothing – which was distressing in itself to see my two kids in shock. This whole scenario was mortifying, and as I looked at the people around me, all I could see was pity on their faces.
    ‘Where the hell is Simon?’ I kept saying over and over again. We’d been lucky with our property business, starting up during the property boom, buying to let, beginning with flats and ending up with large office blocks, penthouse apartments. Our hard work and good luck along with Simon’s business flair and contacts had got us here, but it looked like our luck and his talent for business might have just run out.
    I was at a complete loss, and I kept asking Sam what I should do – a complete role reversal for us. Sam had to collect Jacob but suggested we all pack some stuff and stay with her, but I had to stay to see Simon, so she agreed she’d be back first thing and we’d work out what to do. I told everyone else it was all a huge mistake and to go home because I was absolutely fine and Simon had texted to say he was sorting it. He hadn’t. I lied because I was embarrassed and worried and didn’t know which way to turn and I didn’t need people watching me in my anguish.
    Once they’d all gone and the kids (who were still in shock) were in their rooms packing, I poured another dry sherry into a crystal flute and took my seat at the kitchen bar. My mouth was dry and I was numb, but slipped into autopilot – I raised the pale liquid under the light. ‘Cheers,’ I said to no one and took a long drink. The dry, spicy warmth filled my chest and tasted vaguely of Christmas as it went down, filling me with warmth but adding to the burn of worry in my stomach. Where was Simon?
    I gazed around in the silence at my beautiful kitchen and took another big sip. We’d bought the sherry on our last visit to Spain and enjoyed it, along with amazing views, at a stunning bar set high in the mountains. It was the finest sherry in the region, served chilled, bone dry and brought to life by a dish of salted almonds at our table in the sunshine. It had been a good summer, I thought, then remembered how the following day Simon had been called away to deal with a problem at work. As he packed, I’d asked if someone else could deal with the problem, but he shook his head, kissed me on the cheek and went, leaving me alone in our luxury hotel bedroom with stunning sea views and our own pool. I remember feeling terribly guilty, imagining how many people would envy me this – yet I’d never been so unhappy or so alone in my life. Like now.
    I’d imagined all our troubles were behind us. Those rumours about him and a woman at his gym were as ridiculous as all the other silly stories about our marriage being a joke. As Simon had said, it was just nasty stuff put around by jealous people. Was it too much for others to believe we had all this money and a happy marriage too? It was like we weren’t allowed both, and I was determined to prove that not only was it allowed – but that we had it! It wasn’t a lie, I was happy and our marriage had survived the bumps on the road of life. I’d decided recently that fretting about Simon’s whereabouts and our future was doing me more harm than good and I was going to put all my fears and insecurities behind me and celebrate by making this Christmas even better than the last. From the tree to the food to the music and our annual party, I’d planned to work hard and make it the best. I loved my husband and wanted to make him proud of me... of us. But at this stage it seemed I didn’t even have a home to live in, let alone a house to hold a party.
    ‘I don’t know why you waste money every year having so-called charity events, you should give it all to charity instead,’ Sam had whined when I’d told her my plans for Christmas. ‘A carol service? A thirty-strong choir in the garden?’ she’d said like I was planning to build a bloody motorway through the front lawn.
    ‘It is for charity... you