Maeve had put forty-one candles into the icing on the chocolate cake. Mikey and Joey had carefully counted them out for her. We would have preferred not to mark the passing of time with those small oblong twists of wax in white and sickly pink. We would have preferred not to have marshmallows stuck into the icing as a border, but I had crumbled under the pressure from the children.

Jenny sat on a kitchen chair and kissed Maeve and told her the cake looked delicious. The children produced the homemade part of the present. Their lovely drawings, a true representation of their innocence. The childish depiction of our family through splodges of paint. Two large splodges – Jenny and I. Three other smaller splodges – the children. Palm trees in the background of each picture, the simplicity of the strokes of the leaves, and the sun, a yellow ball in the corner of each picture, made me smile. Jenny told them the pictures were wonderful, they were so realistic. I told her to judge them. She looked carefully at them and said that each one had a particular quality that the other two didn’t have. It was impossible to choose an overall winner.

This was happiness – her gentleness, her consideration. Laughter was the part of it that got to me, reached into my core, as I witnessed the children’s delight in the simplest of celebrations. I cut the cake and we all had a slice, sweet and cloying. This was some party. The fairness, the way she made each of them feel so special, made me proud.

It was time for bed. Their arms were draped over our necks and it was all hustle as we climbed the stairs, Jenny holding Mikey and me guiding Maeve, Joey on my back too, a piggyback and I told him not to choke me. He moved his hands away from my neck briefly and placed them instead on my shoulders and I lurched forward, and his sticky palms were once again around my neck and I told him that I was going to kill him if he did that again, and he laughed. When the children had brushed their teeth Jenny read to them in the boys’ room. I watched from the landing and it was just us, this unit, and the darkness outside.

Later, the way she touched my stomach, pressing on it gently. Stroking the hair near my groin caused me to moan softly and she was astride me then and when our bodies were truly locked together I felt like I could cry with happiness. We made love that night like it was the first time that we were together when the power of her and her wanting me felt so tangible. When I orgasmed I screamed out.