The figure walking across the dark car park was one Sally Challen recognised immediately. Of course, she did.
After 30 years of marriage, she would have known that gait, that profile, anywhere. It was her husband, Richard, locking his car and jauntily trotting across the road — straight through the doors of a well-known local brothel.
Sally’s heart was pounding as conflicting emotions ripped through her. Fury, that he was betraying her, his loyal wife.