Cover, like nothing happened.

Hugh’s car stopped in their parking space. For a moment, Mara could only watch. He switched off the headlights, but stayed behind the wheel, looking down at something in his lap. His phone. She looked towards hers on the coffee table. Had he messaged? Called? How long had he been trying?

“Hugh’s here.”

Stephen turned towards the window.

“Don’t look!” she snapped. “Get dressed.”

He reached for his clothes. Mara snatched up her own things and hurried into the bedroom, catching her shoulder against the doorframe. She struggled with her bra, pulled the black dress over her head and dragged it into place.

The mirror caught her before she could turn away. Her hair. Her face. She hurried into the bathroom, wiped beneath her eyes with a damp cloth and rinsed her mouth. There wasn’t time to fix everything. She couldn’t even decide what everything was.

From the living room came the clatter of a belt buckle.

“Quiet,” she called.

When she returned, Stephen was fastening his shorts beside the couch.

The couch. Mara straightened the cushions without looking closely at them, then grabbed the takeaway bag. She pulled out the cartons and arranged them on the coffee table. Dinner. A laptop. Two people sitting, talking. That was what Hugh needed to see.

“Put the computer thing back on.”

“What?”

“The thing you were fixing.”

Stephen sat down and opened a window on the laptop. A list of numbers appeared. Mara couldn’t tell whether they meant anything.

“You came over because…”

“Your Facebook post.”

“No. Don’t start with that.”

“But that’s why…”

“You brought food. You were helping with the laptop.”

Stephen looked up at her. “What if he asks how long I’ve been here?”

“Just say…”

A key scraped in the lock.

Mara stepped away from him so quickly that her knee struck the coffee table.

Hugh came through the door. His eyes went first to Mara, then to Stephen, then to the food spread out between them.

“Oh,” he said.

Nobody answered.

Hugh shut the door behind him. “I didn’t realise you had company.”

“Stephen was helping with the computer.” The sentence came out too quickly. Mara heard it and made herself breathe.

Stephen stood halfway up, reconsidered, then stood properly. “Hi. Stephen.”

“Hugh.”

They shook hands across the edge of the coffee table. Mara watched the brief exchange with a strange, detached horror.

“We met on that work retreat,” she said. “I told you.”

“Right.”

“The laptop’s been running really slowly.”

Hugh glanced at the screen. “It’s been running slowly for about a year.”

“Yes. Well. He knows about computers.”

Stephen nodded. “Hard drive’s nearly full.”

Mara looked at him. He looked back at the laptop. For a few seconds the only sound in the room was its tired little fan.

Hugh put his keys on the kitchen counter. “I came back because I wanted to talk.”

Mara had prepared herself for anger. Questions. A slammed door, perhaps, or Hugh looking at Stephen and immediately understanding everything. She hadn’t prepared for how tired he sounded.

“We can talk,” she said.

Hugh’s gaze moved towards Stephen again. “Privately.”

“I was just leaving,” Stephen said.

Relief came so suddenly that Mara almost thanked him. Instead, she picked up his phone from beside the takeaway bag and held it out. “Yes. It’s getting late.”

Stephen pocketed it. “I haven’t really finished. I could take the laptop and…”

“No.”

Both men looked at her. Mara felt her face heat. “I need it here.”

“I could bring it back tomorrow.”

“I said no, Stephen.” This time there was no disguising the edge in her voice.

Hugh looked between them.

Stephen’s mouth tightened, then relaxed into an awkward smile. “Sure. No problem.”

Mara was already at the front door. He collected his things slowly enough that she wanted to shove them into his hands. At last he stepped into the hallway.

“Hope you feel better,” he said.

She couldn’t bring herself to answer. She shut the door and turned the lock.

Behind her, Hugh said, “Wasn’t he the bloke you said kept messaging you?”

Mara kept her hand on the lock for another second. “He messages everyone.”

“That’s not what you said before.”

“I don’t remember every conversation we’ve had about Stephen.”

“I’m only asking.”

She turned. Hugh stood by the coffee table, his jacket still on. He looked uncomfortable in his own living room. Guilt rose in her so sharply that she reached for irritation instead.

“Well, don’t.”

His expression closed a little. “All right.”

Mara looked away first. She had wanted Stephen gone. Now he was gone, and there was nobody left to organise, hurry or send out of the room.

Only Hugh. “I saw your post,” he said.

“Obviously.”

“And then I found out you’d blocked me.”

“You walked out.”

“Because we were shouting at each other.”

“You could have told me where you were going.”

“Yes,” he said. “I could have.”

The agreement stopped her.

Hugh took off his jacket and folded it over the back of a chair. “I drove around. Parked for a while. Tried to work out how to come back without us doing the whole thing again.”

Mara folded her arms. “And Elaine?”

He rubbed a hand over his face. “Mara.”

“Just answer.”

“She’s away. I told you that.”

Mara glanced involuntarily towards the laptop.

Hugh noticed. “What?”

“Nothing.”

“I’m not sleeping with Elaine.”

She stared at the takeaway cartons. One had never been opened. “I was upset.”

“I know.”

“You came home and barely spoke to me.”

“I know,” he repeated, more quietly. “I handled it badly.”

Mara swallowed. She wanted him to keep talking. If he kept explaining his evening, apologising for his part in it, she wouldn’t have to work out what to say about hers.

Hugh sat down. She flinched before she could stop herself.

He paused. “What?”

“Nothing. I banged my knee.”

“Come here.”

Mara sat beside him, leaving a little space.

For a while they talked in careful, unfinished sentences. Hugh said he should have answered her instead of getting defensive. Mara admitted she had gone looking for a fight once she was convinced there was something to find. It was almost familiar. That frightened her more than another argument would have.

Hugh leaned forward to move the laptop out of the way. The screen flickered.

“Careful,” Mara said. “You have to hold it at that angle.”

He steadied it and examined the tape around the hinge. “Christ. This thing really is finished.”

“It still works.”

“Barely.”

A small smile crossed his face. “I’m buying you that MacBook.”

Mara looked at him. “What?”

“The one you keep showing me.”

For one uncomplicated second, she was delighted. “Really?”

“Yes, really.”

“The one I wanted?”

Hugh laughed softly. “Unless you’ve changed your mind in the last twenty-four hours.”

“No.”

She smiled before she could help it. The new computer, the bright screen, the smooth lid without tape holding it together. Something she had wanted for months, suddenly real. “Thank you.”

“We’ll take this one in with us,” Hugh said. “Get the shop to transfer your files. Save you having to mess about with it.”

“No.”

His smile faded.

Mara heard herself and tried again. “No, you don’t need to do that.”

“It’s usually straightforward.”

“I can transfer my own files.”

“All right.”

“I don’t want some stranger going through my computer.”

Hugh looked at the laptop, then at her. “You just had Stephen going through it.”

“He was fixing it.”

“And the shop would be transferring it.”

“It’s different.”

“How?”

“Because it is.” The words landed harder than she intended.

Hugh sat back.

Mara could see him thinking. That was worse than questions. His eyes moved towards the door Stephen had left through, then returned to her face. She reached for his hand. “I’m sorry.”

He didn’t pull away, but he didn’t immediately close his fingers around hers either.

“I’ve had too much wine. My head’s all over the place.”

“I wasn’t trying to upset you.”

“I know.”

“I was trying to do something nice.”

“You are. It is nice.”

She squeezed his hand. “I love it. Honestly. I’ll sort out the old one myself.”

After a moment, Hugh nodded. “Fine.” He left the laptop where it was.

Mara wished he had sounded annoyed. Annoyance would have given her something to answer. Instead, he simply stopped asking. She leaned against him. “I don’t want us fighting anymore.”

“Neither do I.”

“Can we just have a horrible night and then be all right tomorrow?”

Hugh looked down at her. “I’d like that.”

She kissed him, briefly at first, then again because she needed him to return it. He did. When he put an arm around her, she let her head rest on his shoulder. He was warm and familiar. She concentrated on that, on the sound of his breathing, on the fact that he had come home to talk.

After a while, he brushed her hair back. “Want to go to bed?” he asked. Then, with a tentative smile, “Make up properly?”

Mara’s stomach tightened. “Not tonight.”

His hand became still.

“I feel sick,” she added. “Too much wine. I think I’ll throw up if I do anything.”

Hugh studied her face, then nodded. “Okay.”

He kissed her forehead and stood. “I’ll get you some water.”

Mara watched him walk into the kitchen. On the coffee table, the old laptop’s screen dimmed. She reached forward and closed the lid carefully, holding the broken hinge together with her fingers.

“Water’s enough?” Hugh asked.

“Yes,” she said. Her voice sounded almost normal.

“Water’s enough.”