JANICE was startled by the ringing phone, surprised by the shrill sound in the quiet of midday. Nobody rang her at this time, at least almost nobody. Her friends would ring in the early evening when they had returned home from work. Her family didn't call.

She moved to the phone, not running exactly but rushing, afraid that any moment they might ring off. In her hurry she brushed the corner of the coffee table with her thigh and it pitched over the vase of flowers. The lilies had been a present from Stephen – another apology for another late night. He promised her that it would end soon and they could take a holiday but in the meantime he brought her half-dead flowers culled from a roadside stall.

Water rushed from the vase and onto the carpet, deepening the blue pile in an exploding bloom.

The phone was still ringing when she reached it. Janice snatched at the receiver, "Yes?" she demanded, holding the caller responsible for the damage.

"You don't know me but…" the voice on the phone began and then fell silent.

The voice was soft and unsure. A woman's.

She began to speak again. "You don't know me, but I know your husband, we've been seeing each other for some months now."

"Seeing each other?" Janice asked.

"I'm sorry to tell you this but it's true. We're going to go away together," the woman said, ignoring Janice.

"I don't believe you," Janice said. It didn't make sense. Stephen? Not her Stephen. He wouldn't do that to her, he had promised.

After last time and all the arguments and tears he had promised her and in the end Janice had believed him because he seemed so contrite and sincere.

"I'm not telling you this to hurt you but I think you ought to know. We've discussed it and it seems the right thing to do."

We've discussed it, Janice thought, echoing the woman's voice. She wondered what counted as discussion with Steve.

Had this woman, this young woman from the sound of her voice, told Steve what she was going to do? Probably not – "we've discussed it" hid a multitude of sins.

Janice watched the last drops of water fall from the rim of the vase, seep into the large blue map of the carpet.

There was silence, a long drawn out void where the only sound was the occasional crackle of static and the faint echo of a dog barking a few streets away. Janice had an image of the woman – stuck in a flat on a failing estate. She felt a pang of pity for the woman's struggle with the silence. She could help her, she wasn't going to, but she could if she wanted.

Eventually the woman spoke again, her voice so pale.

"I love him and he loves me."

He told you that? Janice wanted to know but said nothing. Silence was more effective; silence could hurt this girl more than words ever could.

But eventually Janice asked; "What's your name? I want to know the name of my husband's girlfriend. I want to know the name of the woman breaking up this marriage."

"It's Lucy." Proud, but a thin confidence, her age showing through. This was the first time she had done this, Janice could tell, but it wouldn't be the last.

"Well Lucy, you want Stephen? You're welcome to him." She put down the phone without waiting for a response.

Janice sat down on the settee. This time she would not cry. She sat and made a promise to herself. Whatever happened she would not cry. She wouldn't give Stephen the satisfaction of humiliating her any more than he had already done.

"Lucy."

When Janice said the name it was nothing special. She wanted to hate the girl but there was nothing to hate, just a name.

She sat on the couch, the stain of water spreading on the carpet below her like a cancer. She wanted to go upstairs and empty the wardrobe out into a suitcase. Leave the house before Stephen came home. But no, that would be too easy for him – that would be letting him off the hook and she wanted him to suffer, because he had promised and because she had believed him.

She didn't go upstairs. Janice sat down on the settee and stared out the window that overlooked the front lawn. They had a good life here, didn't they? The house was almost paid for, they had friends and family.

Was it something she had done? Or hadn't done? If Stephen hadn't been happy with her then why didn't he say anything?

Stop it, Janice told herself. It's not your fault your husband can't keep his hands to himself.

And so Janice sat on the settee and waited, staring out as the shadows in the front yard lengthened and shifted. Six o'clock merged into seven and then neared eight.

As the sky began to turn from twilight into night, the lights from Stephen's car flashed across the window and bathed the room in white light. She waited patiently as he turned off the lights and engine. Listened to the slam of the car door, the electronic hiccup as he turned on the car alarm. She traced his footsteps over the gravel driveway and heard the metallic scratch of his key in the door.

"Hi dear, why are you sitting in the dark?" he asked, his voice lost and aimless. "Are you feeling all right? You aren't having another migraine are you? Have you taken those pills the doctor prescribed for you?"

Janice said nothing. She could think of nothing to say to him. She could feel him standing there, watching her, pitying her.

"What's wrong?" her husband asked.

"That's just what I'm trying to figure out," she told him. "I'm sitting here and asking myself just that – what's wrong Stephen? Why did you have to do it?"

"Do what, what are you talking about?"

She could see him in silhouette standing over by the door, and then as he walked across the room towards her. He turned on one of the small lights and Janice blinked, momentarily blinded after the darkness of the room.

"You've been having an affair Stephen, don't try to deny it."

"I don't know what you're talking about." He reached out to take her hand and Janice snatched away from him.

"Don't you? I can smell her on you, is that where you've just come from?"

"Janice. Dear. I'm late because of this contract – I've already told you about it. I have to work late, that's all there is to it."

"She rang me today," Janice told him.

"She did what?" Stephen snapped back. He was silent for a minute, realising that there was nothing to be gained by denying it further.

"I'm sorry Jan. I never meant to hurt you – it's nothing. It's over, that's probably why she rang you. I told her I didn't want to see her again. I wouldn't do anything to risk our marriage. It was never an affair, not really."

Janice looked at him. In a second she would leave – walk out the door and leave all this behind, but she wanted to know. She had to know.

"So what's she like then. This Lucy?" She spat out the name.

"Lucy?" Stephen looked surprised. "Who's Lucy?"