‘That’s simple,’ said Evie sharply. ‘I got pregnant against the odds and lost it and now because of our problem, Darren and I can’t have the family we wanted, but it doesn’t have to stop us completely, does it?’

Our problem. Evie had never revealed which one of them had fertility problems. She and Darren had simply told everyone that the chances of them conceiving were one in a million. No blame on either side. I totally respected their decision not to go into detail, but it did make this sort of conversation difficult.

‘No, no, of course not. That wasn’t what I meant,’ I said, annoyed with myself for upsetting her. ‘I meant … I was talking about me.’

‘You? What’s up, Lottie? There’s something you’re not telling me, isn’t there?’ she asked, her tone suddenly alert. ‘I could tell. I could sense it in your voice.’

The relief at finally being able to open up to her made me almost weep. At that moment the front door crashed open, sending a shot of guilt through me.

‘Harvey’s home,’ I said quickly. ‘Got to go.’

He walked in and dumped several heavy-looking carrier bags on the breakfast bar.

‘But why—’ Evie began.

‘Don’t I get a hello?’ Harvey pulled open the fridge door, took out the carton of milk and gulped at it, looking across at me quizzically.

‘Sorry, I really have to go,’ I said. I got a rash on my throat when I was nervous. I couldn’t feel it, but I knew the signs; the blotches were appearing now. I hated that I did this: finished a call with my friends or family just because Harvey turned up. But it was easier that way. It wasn’t that he didn’t like me having contact with anyone, it was just that … well, I wasn’t sure really. I just knew I needed to go.

‘Okay, but call me soon. I love you.’

‘I love you too,’ I said, ending the call.

Harvey walked towards me, a look of bemusement on his face as he wrapped his arms around me and gave me a cuddle. ‘Should I be worried?’

He moved like a panther these days, his shoulder muscles rippling under his T-shirt. His cropped black hair glistened with styling oil. ‘Only, dinner’s not ready and I catch you telling someone else that you love them.’

I forced a smile and threaded my arms around his neck, breathing in the smell of him: a faint hint of deodorant and fresh mint chewing-gum breath.

‘Silly,’ I said, kissing him. ‘That was Evie. She and Darren are having problems. And dinner’s not ready because you like your stir-fry still crunchy so I couldn’t start until you got back.’