‘I’m sorry about snogging Scott, too,’ Emerald said to Amber. ‘I wish I didn’t need sex so much. But I do! Since the cruise, I’ve been so famished for bodily contact I’ve been tempted to give myself a strip search. If it weren’t for a bra fitting last week at DJs, I wouldn’t have had any sex life at all since we got back. If only I was an aphid, a wasp or a termite. They’ve dispensed with copulation altogether. Did you know that? They produce eggs that develop without any contact with sperm. You, on the other hand, Amber, are like a slug. They’re bisexual, you know. Some species start off as one sex and turn into the other as they develop. It’s just their nature. And one must follow one’s nature.’

‘What? Nasty and slimy?’ Amber asked quietly.

‘No,’ Emerald corrected, ‘adaptable and unique.’

I detected the ghost of a smile on Emerald’s lips, which, much to my delight, Amber mirrored.

‘I know I joked about it, but why don’t you simply swap husbands?’ I said. ‘Emerald can live with Scott, whose sex drive’s stuck in top gear. And you, Amber, can live in asexual bliss with Alessandro, the vagina decliner. That’s perfect husband replacement therapy. We’ll still be one big happy family. Our kids are so wrapped up in themselves, they won’t even notice the change.’

‘Yes, it’s just recycling, really,’ Emerald said sensibly. ‘One woman’s trash is another woman’s treasure.’

‘I don’t know what I want, exactly, but I’m pretty sure it’s not a man,’ Amber said, softly.

‘That’s good, because I’m not ready to throw my husband in the garbage just yet. That’s why I’ve started secretly slapping testosterone gel onto Sandro’s skin when he’s asleep. Men need hormone replacement therapy too, you know, but are too proud to admit it. I’m hoping it’s going to be the fuel he needs to reboot his man missile before bats fly out of my forsaken fanny.’

Amber laughed, before asking gently, ‘What about you, Ruby? What’s your husband replacement therapy?’

‘I’m upgrading, as it turns out. Yep, I’m getting a new and improved, renovated version of my old hubby. With a baby on the way, Harry wants to renew our wedding vows.’

‘Really?’ both sisters asked, in tandem.

‘People live for so long now that the time from honeymoon to tomb can be seventy, eighty years,’ I elaborated. ‘Harry says that marriage should be a temporary arrangement, similar to a mobile phone contract. You should renegotiate, say, every five years. And that’s what he’s doing – renegotiating.’

‘Just make sure you get a lot of perks in the package, starting with daily breakfast in bed,’ Emerald suggested.

‘And a foot rub each night,’ Amber added.