‘This is something we need to face,’ I said. ‘We can’t run from it. You can see Beth. You can see how hard she’s taking it and it’s only going to get worse, you know. We’re only at the start of this. God knows where the next few months will take us.’

He reached over and took my hand. I didn’t pull away, didn’t shrug him off.

‘Remember we used to say we could get through anything if we did it together?’

I nodded.

‘I think somewhere along the way we might have forgotten that,’ he said.

He looked directly into my eyes with such intensity that I wanted to look away. I wondered, did he know something, about Michael and I? Could he sense it? Had he seen something or overheard something? There was just something in his demeanour that made me feel transparent. Guilty.

And, of course, I was guilty.

I kept his gaze for as long as I could and then I dropped my eyes to our two hands, still together. Taking a deep breath, I vowed again that I was going to stop seeing Michael, no matter how it might pain me in the short term; instead, I’d work on what I had with my husband. Starting right at that moment.

‘Shall we go to bed?’ I asked him, a shake in my voice.

He nodded.

Quietly, in the darkness of our bedroom, we found each other. We didn’t need the light on, we knew every curve and contour of each other’s bodies. It felt strange, alien even, and I had to push down any feeling that I was betraying Michael by having sex with my husband. That was absurd.

This was how it should be.

We barely spoke. We barely made a sound, if the truth be told. Years of being aware of two children in the house had taught us to be quiet. We were out of practice with each other. Hesitant. I tried to remember the last time we’d had sex. It had been the winter. January, perhaps. Maybe earlier. I closed my eyes and tried to enjoy his touch, to remember the things he liked. How he liked to be touched.

It didn’t quite work. We were trying, but it was perfunctory. Like awkward teenagers, not long-term lovers. When we were done, he rolled off me and onto his back, exhaling loudly. I curled up, fought the urge to turn away from him.

‘It will get better,’ he said. ‘If we keep trying.’

I nodded in the darkness first before muttering a yes. Muttering, ‘It will,’ but wondering why we even had to try. Surely it should be natural between us after all these years.