Women were moving in Harry’s direction, hovering nearby with commiserative, comforting looks on their faces. A single, heterosexual man in Sydney attracts women like flies to a dropped chop. I had no doubt that Hire A Hubby’s services would be in great demand.

‘But it’s all chardonnay under the bridge now. I love you. And I love our kids. We done good, matey,’ I said, and brushed my lips across his forehead.

With my heart drilling hard in my chest, I walked outside onto the balcony. When the glass doors whooshed closed behind me, I took in a great gulp of raw sea air. My heart was still beating out a staccato rhythm against my bra but, for the first time in months, I felt the weight of despair lift, all my anxieties and neuroses suddenly in the rear-view mirror.

Bubbles of children’s laughter floated up on the breeze from the beach below, as they paddled in the cool of the evening. The sky was a fluorescent tangerine and turquoise spectacle. Colour was seeping back into my sepia world.

I presumed the huge, flannel-grey clouds looming over the sky was bushfire smoke, but cool sprinkles suddenly peppered my face. It had been such a hot, dry, bushfire-ravaged start to the summer. The welcome sound of the rain grew louder and then exploded around me. I kicked off my shoes, flitted down the stone steps and felt the warm, wet sand between my toes. Then I was running and splashing up along the beach, towards the end of the Insular Peninsular, with the rain pelting down and the waves hissing and sighing onto the sand.

My plan was to quit work and head off on a big adventure – a case of ‘have globe, will trot’. On my own. It would be the first time I’d been on my own in my whole adult life. I wanted to hoover up the sunshine and let the cares of life roll from my shoulders. Although, there was nothing to stop me detouring to some exotic Pacific locations along the way.

I reached into the pocket of my sequined dress, which shimmered in the sunset like a mermaid’s scales. Extracting my phone, I punched in the number I’d got from Zahra Hanbury.

‘Who is it?’

‘You know how they always say, “If symptoms persist, you should consult your doctor?”’

‘. . . Ruby?’

‘Well, I seem to have a case chronic of doctor-itis.’

‘Ah,’ he said, and I could hear a smile surfacing in his lovely, warm voice. ‘I believe that’s only curable with a lot of bed rest in the arms of your favourite medic.’

‘Funny, that’s what I diagnosed too. I mean, who better to administer husband replacement therapy than a doctor with a good bedside manner?’