Still, Daphne sensed something in the air: a rustle between the couple, something off-centre and wobbly, like a spinning top that had lost its centre of gravity. It didn’t really surprise her. Ten years of marriage will do it to you. God knew, her own marriage wasn’t perfect, what with Boy shuttling up and down between Cornwall and London and in danger of drinking himself into an early grave. That wasn’t all he’d been up to in London, either.
