‘So are you.’ He kisses me back.

And then we stop talking and start doing far more interesting things instead.

Later, when we’re lying in bed together, I can’t help returning to his relationship with Ariel. I can tell he’s irritated by my questions, but I say that I need more than ‘we wanted different things’ and that he might have been ‘a bit jealous’.

‘I thought she was having an affair,’ he admits. He tells me about the author Cosmo Penhaligon, who I’ve never heard of, and Ariel’s visits to him in Cornwall.

‘She was having an affair with him? Wow.’

‘She insisted she hadn’t slept with him,’ says Charles. ‘But later, after we’d argued about it, the two of them went to Canada for a festival. When she came back, I discovered a pair of his underpants in her laundry.’

‘Why on earth were you rummaging around in her laundry?’ I ask.

‘I like doing the laundry.’ His tone is defensive. ‘It relaxes me.’

‘If she knew you liked doing laundry – interesting info, by the way – then why on earth would she leave a pair of his underpants in there?’ I ask.

‘Who knows.’

‘What did she say when you confronted her?’

‘I didn’t,’ he replies. ‘I shoved them in the bin.’

‘Maybe Cosmo put them in her stuff to cause trouble,’ I suggest. ‘I can’t believe she left them there on purpose.’

‘There was no need for him to do that,’ says Charles. ‘He was having the time of his life with her anyway.’

‘If I was having an affair, I’d be very careful to cover my tracks,’ I say. ‘I’d be especially wary of leaving stray undergarments lying around if I knew my husband liked doing the laundry!’

‘Oh, look, I accept entirely that there may have been some innocent explanation,’ he admits. ‘Not that I’m convinced. But by that stage we’d gone past the point of no return. She was fed up with me, and I . . .’ His voice trails off and he doesn’t finish the sentence.

‘Did you still love her?’ I ask.

‘I sometimes wonder if I ever did,’ he replies. ‘I admired her hugely, and still do. We were a great couple. We were together all the time. I thought we should be in love, so I proposed.’

‘Right.’ I lean my head on his chest and mull over what he’s said. I can’t help thinking it’s a bit like me and Steve. I thought we should be in love too. I dropped a million hints about getting engaged before he actually proposed to me. Perhaps I pressured him into it. And his calling it all off was a lucky escape.

Charles’s body moves beneath me, and I realise he’s laughing.

‘What?’ I ask.

‘The first thing I thought after I saw his feckin’ jocks was that they were too small to be mine,’ he says. ‘That and the fact that they were M&S. I never buy M&S underpants.’

‘You mean you were comparing size?’ I start to laugh too.

‘It’s a man thing,’ he says.

‘Ooh – you could use it in your next murder mystery,’ I suggest.

‘You’re right.’ He sits up, dragging the duvet with him. ‘My detective could wonder why there’s a pair of Calvin Kleins in the drawer when the hero only wears Hugo Boss.’

‘Exactly!’ I drag him back down to me.

‘You’re giving me all my best ideas,’ he murmurs as he kisses me.

‘I do hope I’m more than an ideas machine to you.’

‘You absolutely are,’ he whispers. ‘You absolutely are.’