Early in the morning, Martha entered the bedroom with coffees and found Al in his boxer shorts and T-shirt, hurriedly putting a battered leather bag into his wardrobe. The bag, which Al has long said belonged to his late father—a beloved rural GP whom Al also describes as a narcissistic sociopath—is one of Al’s few mementos. Al looked flushed and evasive, telling Martha he was just looking for something.

Wanting to keep their recent good mood, Martha mentioned her plan to take Nala to the childminder at eight and asked if Al could open the shop. Al, recovering his composure, readily agreed. Martha reflected on how helpful Al has become at the shop—opening most mornings and doing deliveries—especially compared to short-tenure younger staff like Milly, whose enthusiasm seems to be fading. Al’s reliability has eased Martha’s childcare burden and felt like a “game changer.”

With the house still quiet, Al went to shower. Martha, warmed by appreciation for him, was nonetheless unsettled by the image of the bag being hastily hidden. She opened the wardrobe and pulled out the bag, noticing the padlock left undone and the metal clasp easy to release. The main section was empty, but multiple compartments were locked.

Martha felt a small bulge in one compartment that, by shape, seemed to be a phone. The realization made her stomach drop. As she began to open the unlocked compartment, she listened for the shower, but the water stopped and she heard the tap squeak. She quickly closed the bag, pushed it back into position, and tried to disguise her search as Al finished showering.

The scene ended with Martha’s heart racing, her suspicion rekindled by the likely presence of a secret phone concealed in Al’s father’s bag, threatening the fragile sense of trust and normalcy that had begun to return to their household.