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As soon as the nanocams became commercially available, Roy went right out and bought one. It was just short of three grand, and though a lot of his mates told him to wait – as with all consumer electronics, the price was bound to come down if he left it six months or so - Roy just couldn’t. He had to have one now. He programmed it immediately to follow Katriona wherever she went. There was an as-live feed of Katriona-cam always available on his desktop, and the feed was backed up on hard disk, from which Roy could sit and edit the highlights package whenever his wife was out of the way. Katriona shopping at the Outlet Mall, Katriona eating lunch at the Greek deli with Susan and Jemima, Katriona shagging Dennis Roper in the stockroom of the hardware store, or blowing Pete Sherringham in his lock-up down by the canal, or having a threesome with Carl and Collette Brewster in the artex-stalactite lair of their master bedroom on Willow Tree Drive.

None of this came as a surprise to Roy: he’d always known what his wife was like. The first time he slept with her was at a marketing conference in Bath. He woke later that night to hear Katriona creeping out of the room, and on a whim decided to follow. All the way down to the night porter’s office, then all the way up to an empty room on the third floor, leading the porter by his clip-on tie like a child trailing a thirsty puppy. The seduction had taken all of thirty seconds. As the bedroom door closed, Roy wanted to turn and stride back to his own room, chalk it up as another grubby one-nighter and move on to the next. Except. Except the door Katriona went through had a keyhole. It was the middle of the night, there was nobody else around, and that bloody keyhole was calling him. And so Roy got down on his knees… and three weeks later, he asked Katriona to marry him.

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