‘I really want to do this; it has to be France,’ I replied, and he could tell by the intense look in my eyes that this wasn’t the time to argue. Anything to do with Mum, especially my early childhood memories of happy times spent with her, felt even more sacred now. Having a baby girl had made me feel closer to her – like she was by my side, albeit invisibly. I felt her presence, gently encouraging me to keep going through the difficult times. I knew she would have been rooting for Jason and I to work things out, I just felt it. I hoped that taking Joni to the Loire would somehow make my baby girl feel close to her late grandmother too.

Since Jason had moved back in, life in London lost its thrill for me, and I needed to satiate my urge to break free and run wild in the French countryside. I also couldn’t wait to stuff my face with brie, camembert and baguette, washed down with fantastically cheap red wine, because I’d missed that taste combination so much during pregnancy.

What I hadn’t properly considered was that the weather in northern France in May could be a lot worse than even the long-term forecast had suggested. It rained for seven days solid. Literally from the moment we disembarked the ferry in pouring rain, it must have come down near constantly. I became obsessed with a variety of weather apps, moving from one to the next when I didn’t like the look of the rain or dark cloud emoji it was showing, and feeling elated when I found one that indicated a hint of sunshine from behind a dark cloud.

‘Look – a patch of blue on the horizon!’ Jason would exclaim optimistically from time to time, only for it to dissipate into more heavy grey sky when our car reached it. We almost doubled our expected petrol costs for the holiday because we had to drive – along with every other holiday-maker in the area – to the nearest rainproof venues like a heated swimming pool or an ancient aquarium. There was only one moment, on Joni’s first birthday, when we managed to lay out a rug on a vaguely dry patch of grass on a bank of the Loire, so that Joni could stretch out while we snacked on yet more baguette and cheese and toasted her with some delicious Bordeaux. Jason and I exchanged a look which said, ‘This is what could have been!’

But conversely, despite the weather, Jason and I got on better than ever during that week away. He became his old, cheeky self – taking the mickey whenever I tried to order something in French, constantly asking what was happening in the book I was reading and insisting on competitive games of backgammon while Joni slept. I had forgotten how much backgammon we used to play in Hong Kong and was thrilled Jason had brought our old travel set along. I hadn’t seen it in at least three years and it brought back such happy memories.