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of each other’s existence was because he’d told her himself, in great detail. At first she hadn’t wanted to know; the prospect of what was happening was simply too repulsive and terrifying. But eventually, the not knowing had felt worse. Ignorance was no longer bliss. Like touching an electric fence in order to discover just how electrifying it was, she’d asked Lawrence to tell her everything.
    Each detail had been more painful than the last, but Dot had absorbed it all in an effort to understand. Because that had been the most extraordinary aspect of it: her husband’s bewilderment and sorrow and shame, coupled with a complete and utter inability to countenance giving up this overwhelming new love of his life.
    It was eleven years since it had all happened, but Dot was still able to recall every moment, every word, every emotion of that time. It had been a surreal nightmare, the very worst time of her life; unable to eat or sleep, she had wondered how getting through it could be physically possible. Her husband was distraught and endlessly apologetic but there could be no going back. He’d met someone who meant more to him than she did, and there was nothing either of them could do about it.
    The thought of actually meeting her rival was anathema to Dot, but she felt the need to at least see her with her own eyes. One afternoon, she found herself skulking in her car at the end of the street where Aurora lived with her husband, waiting for her to return home from work. Wearing dark glasses and a hat, she sat there for an hour before Aurora appeared.
    When she did, Dot marveled at her ordinariness. Aurora was attractive but not amazingly so. Her fair hair was cut in a no-style style; she was wearing a nondescript green coat over a sensible shirt and skirt. Effortlessly glamorous herself, Dot was astounded by this decided lack of glamour; Aurora didn’t fit the bill of husband-stealing femme fatale at all.
    Then her heart gave a squeeze of panic as the other woman paused at the front gate of her house and looked directly across the road into Dot’s car. The hat and dark glasses might as well have been invisible; there was no question that Aurora knew who she was.
    Even more extraordinarily, she stood there for several seconds and waited, with a look of sympathy on her face, letting Dot know that if she wanted to come over and confront her, she could.
    If she wanted to scream and yell at her, she could.
    Maybe even if she wanted to deliver a resounding slap across the face and rip her no-style hair out, she could.
    But having always imagined that she would be the kind of woman who would want to confront head-on any form of rival, Dot discovered that she really didn’t want to after all. Nothing Aurora Beauvais did or said could make her feel better about the situation. No good could come from any interaction.
    Turning the key in the ignition, she had shifted the car into gear and driven away.
    ***
    The bell went dinggg out in reception, and Dot rose to her feet to deal with it, smoothing down her narrow skirt with habitual attention to detail and already breaking into a welcoming smile as she pulled open the office door.
    Her smile broadened when she saw Riley waiting at the desk with the girl he’d called about just now. Dot, who relied a lot on instinct and first impressions, liked the look of her straight away; she was pretty and bright-eyed, with small, pearly teeth and swingy dark brown hair.
    â€œHello, darling.” Riley greeted Dot with a kiss on the cheek. “Here she is. Her name’s Tula.”
    â€œTula Kaye. Lovely to meet you. Thanks so much for seeing me.” Tula’s handshake was enthusiastic.
    â€œWelcome. And I’m Dot,” said Dot, already charmed. Gesturing around the side of the reception desk for the girl to follow her, she said, “Let’s have a chat, shall we? Come along through.”
    ***
    This was all going incredibly well.