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"You want me to show you footage from my security cameras. I recall mentioning I could see your place, at Chas's going away party."

"That's exactly what I want mate. So, what's the other thing?"

"You want me to promise I will not mention this to Liz. Especially in light of her quip about gossip."

His system went back two weeks and automatically transferred the images to cassettes. We had a videotape player and mostly hired movies from Blockbuster. I'd bought a few films, mostly early Disney for Rose. I say for her, but the death of Bambi's mother still brings a tear to my eye. Strange, because Rose seems unmoved by it. Chas made copies of what he had.

"I can't edit them mate, so you'll have to take the whole two weeks. You'll get two Fridays, but I'd check all the others as well. You never know."

"Good idea."

I couldn't afford a private detective so this was my best option. I cried off Saturday's shopping trip and went through the evidence while they were out. There was nothing. At first I just checked the two Fridays, but Roisin simply emerged from Park Lane and went in the front door, holding hands with a hyperactive Rose. It was around three fifty, just as she'd said, and they were alone.

Then I watched the next couple of hours until I arrived home. Nothing. I compared the footage to the Monday to Thursday routine. That revealed her bringing Rose, from the other direction, at three fifteen. Nobody else called but on the Tuesday Roisin did slip next door for five minutes. All Chas and Rosalind's windows were opened. There was a pause while presumably she opened all the ones at the back, then they were all closed again, and she returned home. Not nearly enough time to have sex with anyone. That routine was repeated the following week on the Wednesday. This time she took Rose with her, and stayed a quarter of an hour.

I considered checking everything else on the tapes, but that would have been stupid. I'd thought she was having an affair; specifically on Friday afternoons, upstairs, while a tired Rose napped in front of the tv. But it simply wasn't happening. If I began checking all the rest of the footage, I'd end up viewing the house when I was actually in it. The following Friday night, Carter slipped me a copy of that afternoon's activities. Still nothing; perhaps I was wrong. Either way it was time to stop, or risk my sanity.

Sunday morning I got up early and put the coffee on. Then thoroughly searched the spare bedrooms. Not a clue. I repeated the process all through the downstairs but to no avail. I sat with my coffee and brooded; I'd been so sure. We all passed a leisurely Sunday, but I couldn't stop my eyes darting about, looking for clues. It was becoming an obsession, and depressing me. Worse, I was beginning to hate myself. We made love that night, the slow romantic version. When we'd finished and kissed goodnight, I turned my back on her and closed my eyes. An image was running through my brain like a clip from a movie, as I revisited the day's search areas. The image was our front hallway.

It was still haunting me the next morning. I stared around the hall, with no idea what I was looking for, and set off to work with a headache.

I thought I'd finally snapped out of it by Thursday, and went next door to Chas's at eight while Roisin was watching a soap. It was full dark and I wandered round turning random lights on as I usually did; this time turning on all the taps to clear the standing water. Then I did the circuit again, turning everything off.

Friday, I called Carter from work and told him not to bother copying today's tape for me. I'd viewed three Fridays and admitted I'd drawn a blank. He seemed relieved and so was I. Yet I still felt somewhat aggrieved that I'd been proved wrong. Naturalyy, I didn't want Roisin to be having an affair. And I'm certainly not the type to be turned by voyeur fantasies. But there would have been some satisfaction in being right.

I got home that evening and hung up my coat. And there it was - the answer to the hallway irritation. I'd been right all along and now I knew the how. Next door's key was on a different hook. I stared at it until my heartrate returned to normal; then went and joined my wife in the kitchen. I grabbed her from behind and bunched up the elasticated top of her jogging trousers. I nuzzled her neck in greeting. She smelled as she should; she'd showered and got changed.

My curiosity got the better of me on Monday, and I decided I needed more proof. Not for a divorce. I could file for divorce on the grounds of adultery and get one. If the court didn't like the evidence, it would revert to irreconcilable differences or whatever. Either way, my Irish bitch would get nothing. But, despite my earlier denial, I was vaguely interested in why she was doing this. And what could she possibly be getting from it that she didn't get from me.

I went round next door's that evening and did my turning lights on routine again. And searched around for an audio cassette recorder. Good old Chas had left an old Philips behind; I thought I remembered seeing one. He would probably replace it with a newer one while he was in Germany; half his stuff was duty free. The batteries were fine and a quick test showed it was recording and playing back ok. He wouldn't mind if I borrowed it... all in a good cause. I hid it on the top of my wardrobe. Next day, I booked Friday afternoon off work as a half day holiday. I've never known such a long week.

Friday at last, and I parked my car in the next street. Then went home and had a sandwich. I retrieved the cassette recorder and hid it behind a lamp on my bedside table, but left it turned off for now. No voice-activation in those days, and I wasn't sure how long it would record for. My table seemed safer as the phone extension was her side. I went next door briefly, left their front door unlocked, and returned the key to our hall. At three thirty, I set the Philips to record and returned next door, went upstairs and waited, watching the front. Roisin and Rose emerged from Park Lane and went into our house. I moved to the master bedroom. It was at the back, same as ours.

Fifteen minutes later, Roisin emerged from our patio doors, unlocked the larch lap panel, and went back in. It wasn't long before her lover arrived. He scrambled over the fencing alongside Park Lane and dropped into Chas's garden. I don't know what I was expecting, but it certainly wasn't this. A biker! Jeans and boots, and a padded leather jacket.

He stood there for a moment and I silently begged him to remove helmet. Not that I knew any bikers, but I might at least remember his face later. As if he'd heard me, he obliged and took it off, then headed through the secret fence door below me. I stepped back from the net curtains - more in shock than fear of discovery. I did know him; it was Jamie, Carter's son from across the road! Roisin was fucking a nineteen year old university student! I was beyond furious, and started changing my plan. Now I was making it up as I went along.

I slipped through the fence and into my own house; our patio doors were closed but not locked. The heavy curtains were drawn across making the room dim. The tv was on but barely audible, and Rose was sleeping on the settee. I could just make out sex noises upstairs, but left them to it.

I gently lifted Rose and carried her back next door, leaving our curtains billowing, inside the now wide open doors. And I made sure to leave the fence door open. As we passed the pool, I removed Rose's shoes. One dropped on the ground, and the other went into the pool. Rose stayed asleep throughout and I took her inside. Chas and Rosalind also had a bedroom phone extension. I took her upstairs and put her in the smaller bedroom next door. The longer she slept the better for the time being. Then I slipped into their master bedroom, closed the door, and picked up the phone.

"Yes?" said Roisin. She sounded out of breath.

"Where are you, you murdering bitch?" I screamed as loudly as I could. "Rose has been brought into hospital; they're fighting to save her life!"

"What? Where?"

"I'm at Westfield Hospital. They fished her out of Chas's fucking pool!"

I hung up.

Even with two garages between us, I could hear her scream. Jamie came flying out of our house. Roisin was just about to shut our patio door behind him, when he shouted "Look!" over his shoulder. He picked up one of Rose's shoes and Roisin screamed again. Once he'd thrown himself back over the fence into Park Lane, I crossed to the small bedroom and checked on Rose. She'd slept through my shouting on the phone. At first, I was surprised Roisin didn't come out the front. But five minutes later a taxi pulled up. Of course, she had no car. She rushed out - I don't think her jogging clothes had ever moved so fast - and flung herself in. It sped away.

I did a circuit of Chas and Rosalind's, making sure nothing was out of place. With everything locked up I went home. She'd had the presence of mind to lock our patio door, but I had the garage key on my ring. I retrieved Rose's shoes on the way; the one in the pool was floating. As I placed Rose back on our settee she woke up.

"Where's mummy?"

"Sorry Rosie, mummy was a bit naughty and left you alone. But don't worry, I'm here. Want to help me make some tea?"

"Can I have Coco Pops? Mummy says they're only for breakfast."

"Of course you can sweetie, I'll have some too."

I didn't feel much like eating but joined her anyway. Then slipped upstairs, retrieved the recorder, and put it my wardrobe. Afterwards, we watched some tv. The phone rang a few times, but I didn't answer. It was her bed time when the police car arrived.

To save explanations, I held Rose in my arms when I opened the door. Roisin sobbed and grabbed her off me.

"Mummy! Where did you go? Why are you crying?"

She turned to the police woman and said: "It's ok."

"Your wife got a malicious phone call, Mr Peterson. She's rather distressed."

The officer turned to Roisin.

"Will you be all right, Mrs Peterson?"

"I'll be fine thanks."

The cops left. We three went inside.

When Roisin began Rose's bed time routine, I spoke to her for the first time.

"Just popping out a moment. I'll only be a couple of minutes. Stay here and do not leave our daughter. You're screwed by the way. First by Jamie, and soon by me."

That earned me a scared look. But who cared?

Once again we were ordered into Carter's study, with a couple of Heinekens.

"I need to update you on my marital situation." I started.

"No need if you don't want to mate. You did say my videos were no help."

"I need to." I continued. "First, tell me something. If I found out Liz was having an affair, do you think you'd want to know? Should I tell you?"

"Absolutely. My parents got divorced and my mother spent years complaining everybody knew my dad was having an affair, but nobody told her. She felt humiliated."

"Any member of a guy's family? Not necessarily the wife?"

"I'm not sure where you're going with this Ed. But yes, in principle, anybody."

"Roisin is definitely having an affair."

"Jesus! Don't tell me it's with Liz! I can't believe she's gone lez on me!"

He laughed. Then stopped.

"It isn't, is it?"

"No, it's with Jamie."

"Jesus!"

I told him what I knew and assured him I wanted us to remain friends. I left the boy's punishment to Carter's discretion.

"Tell Jamie I know everything. I won't be coming after him. He can come and apologise if he's man enough, but after that I don't want to see him again."

"Understood."

Back home, Roisin was waiting. She was shredding a tissue in her lap and had clearly been crying.

"How did you know?" she asked.

"Oh no. I'm not giving anything away as easily as you do. Tell me why it shouldn't be over between us."

"Because this is not what it looks like."

"Well here's the problem. You're on the inside and don't really know what it looks like. But from the outside looking in, I'll enlighten you. It looks like you're fucking our neighbour's son, in our marital bed. Tell me if I'm wrong."

Before she hung her head, her eyes showed a flicker of concern. I'd said marital bed. Was I just guessing?

"No, you're right." she admitted. "But we only did it this one time, I promise."

"Here's the deal then."

I reached out and held her hands. She looked at me with hope in her eyes.

"If it truly was just one moment of madness, we might be able to recover from it." I was relying on the word might; it was over anyway. "But if it was planned, and happened more than once, it means you're lying. Lying destroys trust. And without trust, there is no way forward."

"I understand."

"So, think about how you answer this Roisin. Was it truly only this one occasion?"

I knew it wasn't.

"It was."

"Come upstairs then."

In the bedroom I took the recorder from my wardrobe. Her face dropped. It had long since run to a standstill, so I rewound it. Then I pressed Play, and fast-forwarded to the first speech.

'How do you want it today Roisin?' asked Jamie.

'How many times do I have to tell you? Don't call me Roisin; it sounds too respectful. With you I'm a slut, so call me that. And don't ask me; tell me what you want, and take it!'

"Only one time?"

She was turning white.

'Take all your clothes off then, slut. I can't be bothered with mine, you can just unzip me.'

There was a rustling of clothes, as she stripped, and the unmistakeable sound of a a zip being lowered. Then:

'Ew, you're not very clean under your foreskin! You should have washed it.'

'I usually do, but this is Good Friday. You clean it. That's what slut's mouths are for.'

"Good Friday? Clearly there have been a lot more."

The tape rolled on and there wasn't much more dialogue. But plenty of fucking noises. It didn't last long, which was understandable. Roisin was obviously in her forced fuck scenario with this guy, and would cum in minutes. Also, they wouldn't want to prolong it as they had to sneak Jamie back out, before Rose woke up. It soon came down to the familiar final grunts, and they both climaxed.

'Good!' she shouted.

'Of course it was, it always is. But next time I don't want to hear any complaints about my personal hygiene, slut. If I leave it unwashed all week, you'll do your duty and clean it. Whinge about it again, and I'll smack you!'

'Good!'

Then the phone rang. I stopped the tape so I wouldn't have to listen to her hysterical screams again.

"And there goes your one chance to make some amends. You lied again. You've fucked him several times, and they were all planned. It's divorce."

She was feisty now.

"What, for a couple of indiscretions? You'll throw away our marriage? Lose your daughter?"

"Wrong, it's you that's about to lose everything. I've made copies of the house deeds. My mum's house deeds."

Roisin scanned through them but mostly relied on my explanations. At last she got it. She had lost everything.

"I've already spoken to mum about how it would probably go down today. And it may surprise you to learn that I don't want you to end up completely destitute. After the divorce, Rose stays with me, but you'll have reasonable access. And I don't want her visiting some bag lady."

"Thanks."

"Amongst my parents' investments are a couple of flats. A tenant recently moved out of a one-bed place, and you can have that. It's furnished, and you must move in this weekend. You'll still have to pay them rent of course, but they'll waive the three months' deposit."

"I had no idea they were so well off."

"That's because they've never made a big thing about money and possessions. The main thing they instilled in me, was making my own way in the world. I haven't got far yet, but it's early days."

"I'm sorry Ed. I was stupid. I just met him in the park..."

"Enough! I'm not interested. I suggest you make the most of this weekend. While you pack, explain your leaving to Rose in language she'll understand. But do not make me the villain. You and I will not be together after today. With Rose, we'll be link detached."