‘Aisha, it’s a Baby Group, not an influencers’ convention. I don’t think anyone cares what anyone else is wearing,’ he said. ‘I couldn’t give a toss. Excuse the salad pun.’

‘But I care,’ I sighed. ‘Anyway, how was your day?’

‘Philip offered to pay me double overtime when I mentioned I’d missed the meeting. I’ll get at least two hundred quid,’ he declared, sounding genuinely chuffed. ‘I’ll tell you more over dinner later.’

‘Every cloud.’ I sighed again. I didn’t dare tell him about the money from Dad, which we were going to badly need because Jason’s £200 wouldn’t cover kitting out the nursery, not judging by the baby list Maggie had said she was going to email us all this evening. ‘I’m just popping home for a quick change of clothes and a rest. I’ll see you in an hour.’

When I reached Honest Burger, Jason was standing outside holding a bunch of yellow tulips. He looked so sweetly apprehensive.

‘Tulips for my love,’ he said, bowing down dramatically. ‘I’m so sorry I wasn’t there with you today; it doesn’t sound like you had the easiest time.’

‘I suppose I can forgive you,’ I said, taking the flowers from him and lifting my head to give him a kiss.

He knew yellow tulips were my favourite. They had been hard to come by in Hong Kong (whereas red roses had been ten a penny) and they had reminded me of home. Now I bought a bunch almost anywhere I found them. I loved them so much that when illustrating my last children’s book – yet another incarnation of a story about learning how to share – I put yellow tulips in almost every scene. When my new editor questioned it, I had my answer at the ready (I hadn’t been in this game for eight years and learnt nothing): ‘It adds another dimension. Once the adult reading the book becomes aware of them, the child can begin to search for them on every spread. I’ve done so many bunnies, cats and bears. Yellow tulips symbolise cheerfulness and sunshine to me. Please?’

I got to keep the tulips.

When we sat down, Jason slid an arm around me, enveloping me into a tight hug. ‘You’re going to be an amazing mum, you know,’ he said earnestly, turning my face so my gaze met his.

My eyes filled with tears. ‘I hope so.’ I took a deep breath.

‘I was thinking, with my overtime money, we could shop for a cot.’ He fixed me with a look of pure love. ‘Perhaps we could go and find one tomorrow, a really great one.’

I smiled. There was a time when a bonus would have meant going straight to the pub, and blowing it all on margaritas and later a Thai meal at our favourite local restaurant, and now here he was getting excited about buying a cot. Even though I would give almost anything for a margarita right now, it felt good, after his initial wobble when I got pregnant, to see Jason enthusiastic about the baby. It meant he was finally getting his head around becoming a daddy and it made my heart swell with happiness. This was quite a moment, because it was the first time it had been his suggestion to go shopping for nursery items. The last time I mentioned getting a cot, he had suggested we use the time to go on a date instead. He had looked exasperated when I had explained that the baby was likely to be in a cot for up to two years so it was important to do the research. But really, it wasn’t even about the cot – it was about us coming together to plan. Jason seemed to think having a baby was a fleeting moment in time.