The Helen Bianchin Collection. HELEN BIANCHIN

both hands in a gesture of conciliation. ‘Midday?’

      ‘Fine.’

      She saw him out the door, locked up, then she removed her make-up, undressed, then slid into bed to stare at the darkened ceiling for what seemed an age, sure hours later when she woke that she hadn’t slept at all.

      A session in the gym, followed by several laps of the pool eased some of her tension, and she re-entered her apartment, showered and dressed in jeans and a loose top, then crossed into the kitchen to prepare lunch.