Tom was very fond of his sister-in-law; he always had been. He often felt like a protective big brother to her, and hand in hand with that was the occasional feeling of exasperation that she didn’t have a clear sense of purpose to her life. But he had to applaud her thoughtfulness in wanting to keep her pregnancy from her sister; it was a typically kind gesture on her part. However, he felt less generous towards Rick for breaking the news about the baby to Martha the way he had. Had he done it deliberately to pay her back, as she believed? If so, it didn’t bode well for the future for them as a family. It was a shame their opinion of Rick had altered so quickly and so dramatically. Did that say more about Tom and Martha, or Rick, he wondered?

He was still standing in their bedroom with Martha’s mobile in his hand, when he realised the shower had stopped running some minutes ago. He tried to think when they’d last showered together, or more precisely, when they’d had good old-fashioned up-against-the-tiles sex in the shower and for the sole purpose of the erotic pleasure it gave, rather than the creation of a new life.

Would sex ever be like that for them again?

Despising himself for such a shallow and self-centred thought, he was about to go downstairs to start cooking supper when he heard what sounded like a yelp coming from the bathroom.

He went over to the door. ‘You okay, Martha?’ he asked.

When she didn’t answer, and anxious she might have slipped and hurt herself, he opened the door. With her back to him, a towel wrapped around her head and another around her body, she was standing in front of the vanity unit. His gaze took in what lay on the top of it – the tell-tale ripped open packaging – and he knew straight away why she had let out a yelp. His heart went out to his wife, but at the same time he felt irrationally cross with Martha. Stop putting yourself through this! he wanted to shout. Just let nature take its course.

‘Sweetheart,’ he said, putting the mobile into his pocket and going over to her, ‘please don’t be upset.’ He turned her round to face him, bracing himself for an outpouring of grief. For he knew that was what it felt like for her each month that came and went and with still no sign of a baby. To make her feel better, and although it really wasn’t the step he wanted to take, he said, ‘let’s make an appointment tomorrow to see a specialist. We’ll—’

He stopped himself short when he realised that Martha’s face wasn’t consumed with misery as he’d seen so many times before, but with something quite different.

She held up the white plastic stick. ‘It’s positive,’ she said, her voice little more than a whisper, as though to say it any louder was tempting fate.