Why had she insisted on moving out to the very edge of London instead of staying in the mansion he’d bought her? It was a beautiful house, full of everything a wife could possibly want, but she had fled it without a backward glance.

And where had she chosen instead? A dump. A cottage. He knew he was exaggerating because it was a five-bedroom detached house, far better than where they’d lived when they were first married, but nothing compared to what he’d given her later.

It still hurt when he thought of the home he’d provided for her. The price had been extortionate, but he’d paid it willingly, thinking how thrilled Corinne would be.

It had had everything, including a paddock for the pony he intended to buy as soon as Bobby had learned to ride. Those riding lessons had been a kind of eldorado in his mind. How he would have loved them in his own childhood! And how different the reality had been!

But, for Bobby, everything would be perfect.

As always, he felt something melt inside him when he thought of his children, Mitzi, wide-eyed and appealingly cheeky. Bobby, quiet, self-assured even at nine, rapidly growing up to be a companion to his father.

And then Corinne had blown the whole dream apart. He’d come home one day to find the beautiful house empty and his family gone.

When he’d seen her again she’d talked about divorce, which he didn’t understand. There was nobody else for either of them, so who needed divorce? He’d refused even to consider it.

He had thought his firmness would make her see sense and come home, but she had quietly refused to budge. She would wait out the divorce, if necessary.

She didn’t actually say that the important thing was to be away from him, but the implication hung in the air.

He was nearing his destination now. He had never been there before, and darkness and snow made it hard to find the way. It was this road-no, the next!