Tom had upped sticks himself when he’d graduated from Leeds University and left Yorkshire for a job in London as a graduate trainee accountant. He’d ended up specialising in forensic accountancy, which, with his nerdy propensity for detail, was a perfect fit for him.

Just over three years ago, he and Martha moved out of London and he took the plunge to start his own business. He rented office premises near Guildford where he and a small team could operate. Their client base had since grown at a very pleasing rate, even with the challenges of coping with a pandemic, and they’d just successfully been hired by a prestigious law firm to provide evidence in court against an insurance company accused of defrauding customers.

Martha had encouraged him every step of the way when he’d said he wanted to abandon his relatively secure and well-paid job in London and go it alone. He’d always be grateful for that, that she was happy for him to take the risk. A risk that so far was paying off handsomely.

In return for that support and encouragement he would love nothing more than to make her dream of having a baby come true. But how far would he go?

What if further down the line desperation kicked in and Martha proposed IVF?

The thought of that filled him with dread. Not just the outlandish cost, but the misery it could bring – hopes raised, only to be crushed with each failed attempt.

He hoped to God he could spare Martha that pain.

When he’d found the latest pregnancy test kit Martha had kept from him, not a word had he said to her about it. It wasn’t the first time it had happened. She clearly wanted to keep him on a need to know basis, wanting to test herself in secret and then delightedly give him the good news if it was positive.

If he were honest, he wanted to be there with her when she did the test, to share the moment of discovery.

He hadn’t been deliberately snooping through the bin when he’d found the kit, but he’d had his suspicions roused earlier in the evening when she’d disappeared straight upstairs to the bathroom the moment she’d arrived home from work. He had caught the unmistakable rustling sound of a bag. He knew her routine as well as his own, so any variation from the norm was like a klaxon going off.

So yes, he had looked in the bathroom bin when he was cleaning his teeth while getting ready for bed. But only because he wanted to confirm what he thought he already knew.

At around three in the morning, he had woken to find Martha crying. She had claimed it was because she was suffering with the pain of her period, and maybe she was, but he suspected the tears were for another reason. He’d offered to fill a hot water bottle for her and while he was downstairs waiting for the kettle to boil, he had studied the calendar on the wall.