There were some plus sides to him being away though – having as many pillows as I liked in bed was one. Also especially satisfying was the fact that it took me all of five minutes, with a hammer and some tacks, to put up the pictures I had chosen for the nursery walls, rather than a convoluted whole afternoon involving a painful discussion about why it was best to do this properly – i.e. the time-consuming way, involving a spirit level, drill and proper picture hooks. DIY techniques were a constant battleground for us.

‘What’s cooking?’ he asked, nose in the air like a sniffer dog the moment he had set his suitcase down. I took his hand and led him towards the kitchen, where he guessed correctly that I’d been busy cooking my speciality boeuf bourguignon this afternoon.

I puckered my lips. ‘Supper, for my man.’

Oscar smiled and put his arms around me. Despite the fact he was six foot three with long arms, I’m pretty certain they didn’t meet at the back. ‘It smells beautiful – but not as beautiful as you look, darling Lucy.’ He paused to look at me. I enjoyed accepting his compliments and stopped for a moment to bask in his besotted gaze, before shuffling out of his hands and turning to retrieve the oven gloves from the side. I gave the pot a stir, releasing some more juices, to labour the point that I really was a bloody good cook.

‘Something tells me some nesting has been going on,’ he declared, with an air of sarcasm.

There was no point denying I had become a pregnancy cliché. ‘Wait until you see the nursery.’

He followed me upstairs.

I reached behind the nursery door and turned the light off for some added drama as we both stood on the landing outside the smaller of two spare rooms, which had been turned into the nursery. He planted a kiss on my lips. As I edged open the nursery door with my foot, he whispered, ‘Maybe we should leave the lights off…’ Then he pushed himself into my back and ran his fingers over my breasts and over the bump. It occurred to me that my body was not too dissimilar to a camel’s, with two humps, right now. ‘I just find you so sexy.’ As he pressed himself into me, I felt he was hard.

‘Sexy now – but will I be sexy to you when my breasts are lactating and I’ve not slept for weeks?’ I muttered.

He gently turned my face towards his. ‘What do you mean?’ he said. ‘Of course I’ll find you sexy. You’ve never looked more womanly – I love it.’

‘You’ll still want me, when I’m a mum?’

‘Even more so,’ he whispered, hungry for me. ‘You’ll be sexier than ever to me when you’re a mum. You are blooming, Lucy.’

I turned to face him and we kissed slowly and passionately.

‘The Baby Group woman was saying that sex can bring on labour at this stage,’ I whispered, my bump between us, stopping us from pressing into each other as closely as we wanted to.