I pull four or five out of the stack and return to my makeshift bed, opening the first book up. I’m not great with kids’ ages, but Tabby looks to be two or three at a guess. It’s amazing that Marlowe finds the time to put these mementos together amid the stress of working and parenting and dealing with hospital visits.

I drop down to one elbow and proceed to take a trip through the memories of the two people I’ve fallen for, memories I play no part in. Right now, the best I can hope for is that they allow me to be a part of their future memories. I may be the one with the ten-figure net worth, but there’s no denying that Marlowe is richer than me in the ways that count.

Imust have passed out eventually, because when I wake, the sun is streaming through the room. The floor beside me is strewn with photo albums, and my phone reads just after seven. Shit. I sit up in a panic before realising that the sound that’s woken me is gentle crying.

Tabby’s crying, to be precise.

I pull my shirt and trousers on hurriedly and pad over to Tabby’s room. Marlowe’s already in there, sitting on the edge of her bed.

‘Hey,’ I say as softly as possible so as not to startle Tabs. ‘What’s up, sunshine?’

Tabs gapes at me through her tears. ‘Hi, Bren. What are you doing here?’

I glance at Marlowe. She’s in shorts and a thin tank top and no bra, none of which is remotely helpful. I avert my eyes and focus on Tabs. ‘I took your mum out last night, and I wanted to have a sleepover so I could see you this morning.’ There’s definitely no upside in mentioning any security issues to a kid her age. ‘What’s up with you? You not feeling too good?’

‘She’s got a fever,’ Marlowe says, sticking a little plastic cup on the end of a thermometer. ‘It doesn’t feel too bad, but let’s see…’

She sticks the device in Tabby’s ear and it beeps. ’Thirty-eight-point-two.’ She grimaces.

‘Is that bad, Mummy?’ Tabs asks with an adorable little hiccup-slash-sob.

‘It’s not too bad,’ Marlowe tells her with a kiss to her temple, ‘But it tells me your body is heating up so it can try to kill some germs.’ She chews the inside of her cheek. ‘I don’t know if the GP surgery is open on the weekend, though…’

I immediately spot a way to add value. ‘Sod that. I’ll organise a house visit.’

‘But…’ she begins, and I shake my head at her. Now is not the time for pride. ‘Consider it sorted.’