‘Yes.’ I tipped some olives into a bowl and pushed it towards him.

‘Then okay.’

‘Great. It’ll be fun.’ I bounced a little to demonstrate my enthusiasm.

He studied me. ‘You usually hate being dragged away from here.’

‘I want to shop. To get some special things for her.’

‘I thought you said it was bad luck to buy baby things early. I was surprised you made those curtains. You said Peggy told you not to.’

‘Peggy thinks there’s a plague pit in our garden. Peggy has to buy twice as much salt as a normal person, because she’s always throwing it over her shoulder.’

He gave me his slow smile and picked up an olive. ‘You really are relentless, you know.’

I shook my head, and said what I knew he would take as a compliment. ‘Not as relentless as you.’

London, Late March 2017

We left St Ives at six on Friday morning and I slept for the entire journey. When I opened my eyes five hours later, Zac was driving into the hotel’s forecourt. He handed his keys to the valet, then came round to my side.

Milly referred to Zac’s sports car as the Noddy car, though I had spared Zac this knowledge. The Noddy car was so low to the ground that I was grateful when Zac helped me out. It made him laugh, and he seemed so happy that I forgot everything for a minute and felt happy too. He put his hands on my bump and kissed me and said he was going to change the car for something bigger in plenty of time before the baby came. I pictured us in a bubble with our baby, a beautiful little family, but I blinked and the bubble floated away and burst, along with the impossible picture inside.

We took a taxi to a cafe near the shop that I had told Zac I wanted to visit. I’d chosen it because I’d studied the building plans while I was in the library on Monday, looking for a place with a rear exit.

Zac ordered a cooked breakfast of such heart-killing proportions it was staggering to think he was a cardiologist. He ate every bite of his fried eggs and mushrooms and tomatoes, his bacon and sausages, his fried bread and black pudding and baked beans, as well as several pieces of thickly buttered toast with marmalade. His pleasure in eating, his huge appetite, was another of the things I’d loved about him.

I managed a cheese omelette, a few bites of toast, and a glass of orange juice. When we’d finished, Zac walked me to the shop and followed me in.

He fingered a white babygrow with two pink rabbits embroidered on the chest. It was impossibly tiny. ‘Do you like this?’ He sounded shy, something I’d never heard before.

‘I do. She will too, since you chose it.’