‘Oh, love.’ Harry melted. I relaxed for a moment into the familiar comfort of his big, solid arms, my face mashed up against his scruffy shirt. He smelt like home, like pool chlorine and a hint of Christmas. I felt it all, then, our long history, in vivid, colourful flashbacks – the pregnancies, the births, the cute things our kids did and said, like the time Zoe came home from her grandmother’s to report that for tea she’d had ‘elephants and chips’, which apparently decoded as ‘an elegant sufficiency’. And the time Jake, aged nine, had written us a note to say that he’d discovered his superior intellect and was clearly a ‘genus’.

I thought of the weight of our shared mortgage, which we’d only just paid off together after years of scrimping. Maybe it was just a Wednesday in the week of our marriage. Maybe Thursday and Friday would be so much better . . . not to forget the hedonistic weekend. Perhaps the passion I shared with Brody truly was just a mirage, the cruise ship nothing more than a floating Brigadoon.

Harry had sworn on Bradman’s grave that those texts were just meaningless, stupid banter with an old customer, which made me the adulterer now, come to think of it . . . Although there was nothing adult about it. No, it had been wild, rash and reckless. Maybe my menopause had started and Brody was my hot flush? A hot flush made flesh?

Harry checked his watch. ‘Come on. We’d better get our skates on!’ He called to the others. ‘We’re smack-bang in the morning rush hour, of course, which is a bit of a bummer. Traffic jams are so bloody bad in Sydney these days you can have an oil and grease change and a full friggin’ service without losing your place in the lane,’ he chuckled, relief rolling off him in waves.

Harry was always ready to laugh at the world. It was one of the things about him I’d fallen for – that sanguine, devil-may-care, she’ll-be-right-mate Aussie insouciance, so at odds with the stressful atmosphere I’d known in the Ryan family home.

Alessandro and Scott hugged me, expressing joy at the excellent medical news and generously putting my birthday outburst down to shock and grief and alcohol. Amber and Emerald waved goodbye as they followed their husbands to Alessandro’s SUV. Harry tilted my bag onto its back wheels, put his arm around my shoulders and guided me out of the terminal and towards his Hire a Hubby van, which was parked precariously, half up on the kerb.

‘You look like a sunbeam in that dress.’ He smiled.

I felt the chill of the sea breeze cut through the flimsy silk and shuddered.