I drive while she calls around for reinforcements. Her self-shooting producers and APs have scattered to the four corners of the British Isles for family reunions. The three local freelancers she sometimes uses are at the same wrap party in Brighton, too drunk to drive.

She gets hold of one crew from London, but after she ends the call, she says, ‘Can’t see him being there much before ten. So it’s you and me, Joel, like the olden days.’

Can we resurrect the olden days, when we were together 24/7 and still couldn’t get enough of each other? These days, we no longer work as a pair, and even our time at home seems focused on keeping Leo happy. Anything but admit to the mess we’re in.

It wasn’t just the cardiac perforation. Two years of trying for a baby would put any couple under pressure, but my prevarication about agreeing to IVF hasn’t helped. Liv found out we could even apply to have my problem gene added to the permitted screening list, which would mean our embryos could be checked. But still I’ve resisted.

I drive in silence now, while she sits the camera on her lap, prepping it for a night shoot. How do I explain my reluctance? I’ve tried to make sense of it. Maybe I want one thing in my life to exist without medical intervention. But that’s not a reason to deprive Liv of the child she desperately wants.

Leo is enough for me. I can’t imagine loving another baby as much as I love him. Yet if I don’t love Liv enough to make this happen, perhaps we shouldn’t be together.

I glance to my left. She’s looking at me now, but immediately pretends to fiddle with a camera setting. Sometimes I wonder if she’s only waiting till I’m completely well before she dumps me for good. I wouldn’t blame her.

But it would break Leo’s heart.

The sav nav skirts the queues on the motorway and gets us close to the site in under forty minutes.

‘How far now?’

But the lights ahead answer her question. Liv is usually unshockable, but even she’s speechless at the number of vehicles and emergency staff on site as we pull up. The field is already a bog where people have trooped through in heavy boots and it wears me out just following her to the nearest fire engine. She’s trying to locate one of the crews she’s been filming for the series.

‘They’re by the track,’ she says. ‘Look, it’s going to be grim. You don’t have to come.’

‘You think I can’t handle it?’

Liv sighs. ‘This isn’t about how macho you are, Joel. You’ve been ill. And even if you can handle it physically, the last thing you need is another trauma to give you nightmares.’