But where would I start? We decided not to tell anyone outside the family about the embryo transfers, and now there’s no point mentioning it, because it probably won’t work.

Please let it work.

‘Gemma?’

‘Sorry, I was thinking. About work.’ A white lie, for my own sake.

‘Has it picked up then?’ He gets up, starts tidying the classroom: piling up beanbags, turning off the soothing music he always plays in the last session of the day. I’m in awe of how he’s turned these hospital rooms into a haven for the kids who come here.

‘There’s a commission that’s right up my street, but after last time, my agent’s asked for more spec sketches than usual. To make sure I don’t screw up again . . .’

Jed nods. ‘You seem calmer to me. A lot more like the old Gemma.’

‘Yeah, I’m almost back to being the girl whose idea of a crisis was getting the Pantone a shade out on a packaging mock-up.’

‘It’s what he wanted, right? For you to be happy again. As happy as you were together?’

‘That’s a tad over-ambitious.’

‘Is it? Because I’m determined to be happier than I was with Niamh.’

The comparison irritates me, but I try not to let it show. ‘But Niamh was wrong for you, so of course you’ll be happier when you find someone better. Andrew was perfect for me. The One.’

‘You think there’s only one person out of the world population of seven-point-six billion that you could love? Andrew would take issue with your numbers.’

He is right, technically. ‘OK, in the entire world there might be two or three more. But the chance of me bumping into one of them on the Downs is statistically low, and I don’t have the energy for a global manhunt.’

Jed has the patient expression he uses on children who refuse to learn Very Important Lessons. ‘Even if you did bump into the right person on the Downs, would you actually notice them?’

‘OK, Teach, I think you’re forgetting I’m not one of your naughty pupils.’

Jed laughs. ‘Sorry. Occupational hazard.’ He turns off his laptop and the projector. ‘I won’t put you in detention. But how about a drink? It’s the perfect weather for the deck at BayCaff.’

Except that BayCaff was our place – mine and Andrew’s – so now I only go there alone. ‘Another time. Sorry, in a bit of a funny mood tonight. You know how it is. By tomorrow I’ll be my usual sunny self again.’

I give him a quick hug before I leave the classroom, and the solidity of him surprises me, as it always does. I grew used to skin and bones.

Bloody hell, it is scorching out here. Bear blinks in the bright sunshine and stays within the shadow cast by the hospital building, so his paws don’t burn on the hot paving. Oh, I miss BayCaff evenings: the lapping of the water against the side of the boat, the chink of ice cubes in a tall glass of iced mocha.