‘Were you going to tell me?’ Oscar asked, turning the conversation back to himself, somehow making it sound like he’d been hurt in the process.

‘I’m telling you now aren’t I? I didn’t tell you before, because I know you’ve got a lot on your plate with your own family and we’re not together. Remember?’

He looked crestfallen, and for a moment it riled me slightly. ‘You made it quite clear to me that you don’t want any more children, Oscar – you broke up with me over it – so I figured you didn’t need my IVF plans cluttering up your life.’

He paused.

‘Can I ask who the father is?’ He sounded dejected, which took me by surprise. It hadn’t even crossed my mind that he might jump to the conclusion that I’d miraculously found a man willing to make a baby with me in the last few months.

‘You can, and it’s no one I know – I went the anonymous sperm donor route. I chose from a list of distinguished characteristics: high IQ, a clean bill of health, tall and as close to Channing Tatum’s looks as possible. It was all very scientific really.’

He breathed a sigh of relief. ‘So it will be just like me then.’

I smiled. His joke had released some tension.

Oscar seemed fascinated by the anonymous sperm donor and asked if I thought I’d ever want to discover who the father was. I had thought about this a lot at the outset and decided that I wouldn’t want to find out, but that if my child wanted to know, when the time came, I would support them. I hadn’t ticked the box on the consent form which ruled that out entirely. I believed they should have the choice, wherever it led. And I’d be there to support them in that journey. I waivered as I recounted this to him, adding that I imagined it might get complicated one day.

I must have given something away, by the way I told Oscar all this. He gave me a funny look.

‘What are you thinking?’ I asked.

‘I’m trying to work you out.’

‘Work me out?’ I paused.

He had touched a nerve and he seemed to know it. I paused for a moment and a shiver ran down my spine. But again I decided to keep quiet and not tell him any more. This big secret sometimes felt like a fish bone lodged in my throat. It constricted my breath at times, but I didn’t know how to release it, or what the consequences would be if I did. It was a ticking time-bomb.

‘I guess it’s not exactly the way I dreamt of bringing a baby into the world – not knowing who its father is – but it’s my story now,’ I said at last. ‘Our story,’ I indicated my stomach, which so far wasn’t showing any signs of having a baby in there. ‘I wanted to be normal, but it didn’t happen for me.’