Gareth jumped. ‘Enter,’ he drawled, pointing the remote at the television and pressing the off button. Diane flung herself into the chair, breathless and flushed. ‘Shall we stop pretending?’ ‘About?’ From her back pocket she extracted a navy blue passbook and threw it on the bed. Slowly, he picked it up, smoothing out the slight curve it had taken on from the shape of her behind. He didn’t speak. Probably waiting to hear what she had to say. Which was fine because she had plenty! The words tumbled over each other in their efforts to leave her mouth. ‘I’ve been to see your cottage. Nice, isn’t it? Nicer than our house, rather nicer furniture and decor, bigger garden – no vegetables in your garden, I see, but then you don’t have to eke out the pennies as I do. ‘Two hundred thousand pounds,’ she hissed. ‘And a house.’ He held on to the passbook, his eyes flickering. ‘You wouldn’t believe what those bastards took off me in tax –’ She leaned her elbows on the bed.
