He gazed at me blankly for a moment. ‘Why not? The kids are about to bugger off. The nest will be empty. What could be better? This is just what we need to bring us closer together!’

‘We’re too old to be parents again.’

‘But a baby will keep us young. A baby. Can you imagine? Wow!’

I made a noise like a tyre going flat. Realising that I wasn’t showing the right level of enthusiasm, I curled my mouth into what I hoped was a smile but was more like a rictus. My toes curled up as though I were wearing a pair of Turkish slippers.

‘Be serious, Harry. What sane people our age would want to spend one more second of their lives making rocket ships out of loo rolls?’

‘I have a say in this too, Ruby. And, hey. At least, as an older mum, you’re programmed to the baby’s schedule – up all night drinking.’ He winked.

And if I didn’t drink before having a baby at fifty, I definitely would after, I thought grimly.

‘And I’ll take such good care of you, love. I’m gonna treat you like a princess. Because I do love you so, so much, Rubes.’ His voice sounded so sickly sweet I was worried he might slip into a hyperglycaemic coma.

‘Are you, ya know, craving anything else? You always get the munchies when you’re up the duff. What do you feel like? Malaysian? Vietnamese? Waffles? New carpet and a car upgrade? They’re the pregnancy cravings you got last time. Whatever it is, I’ll race out and pick it up. Well, what do ya know!’ he laughed. ‘There’s lead in the old pencil yet.’

Of course, what I didn’t tell him is that I wasn’t at all sure which pencil had written my fate.

My forced smile now felt as though some multi-legged tropical insect was climbing across my chin. As soon as Harry had scooted off to get me some salted caramel chocolate and some Tabasco, I lay on the hammock by our turquoise pool, feeling the evening cool. It was that time of day when the sun normally looks like a knob of butter in a red hot skillet, sizzling and caramelising into a golden brown, but today due to the bushfire haze the sky was end-of-the-world-eerie and sinister.

What was I going to do? Harry wasn’t a bad person. He had a big heart. He was a good dad. He was kind to animals and kids. He volunteered for Nippers and school barbecues and firefighting. And then there was all our history . . . Perhaps I could make a go of it with my husband? And this could be our new beginning? Maybe Brody was nothing more than a foolish fling. But if so, why did I so crave the miraculous comfort of his smile?