Except it’s not just about today. I’ve no idea how real families are meant to work, because my dad’s version was so warped. Yes, I can pretend for a few days, a few weeks, but I can only keep it up for so long. How am I meant to be there for her, when no one was there for me?

Chapter 14: Gemma

Wednesday 11 July

‘Your endometrium is lush, Gemma,’ the senior radiographer says, watching on her screen. ‘Dani, can we see the ovaries now, please?’

Her colleague pushes harder with the wand, as if she’s trying to tunnel her way up and out through my belly button. What would Andrew have made of this? He was a valiant patient, but when he went into remission and we decided to try IVF, I went to the hospital alone. He’d spent too long around doctors already; and I didn’t want him to see me like this.

The physical side of our relationship had changed by then. When we first met there was an instant spark, but it took time to catch fire, fuelled by weeks of gentle flirtation and clever banter. Which meant that when we did get it on, we were so ready, as curious and unashamed about each other’s bodies as horny teens.

But then illness imposed a different intimacy on our marriage, the patient–nurse kind. Our touches became gentler, beautiful in a new way. Oh, I miss that.

‘Right, we’re all done; pop your things back on and I’ll show you the inside story!’

As the examination ends, I exhale. It’s been so long since I was touched by someone who wanted me. I pull on my skirt, before peering over the radiographer’s shoulder at the screen.

‘How am I doing?’

‘Very well. Three lovely layers. The ideal home for a blastocyst.’

A flutter of excitement in my belly, or perhaps my endometrium basking in its duvet-like glory. I imagine it welcoming the embryo: settle in, make yourself comfy. Hopefully you’ll want to stick around.

And, without warning, I burst into tears, and they take it in their stride, because everyone they see is stuffed full of hormones and hope, and happy tears are the best kind.

I try to call Isabel on the way home, but there’s no answer. I haven’t told her that I’m trying this month. In December her support became so intense that I felt smothered, but at least she’s on my side. She’s desperate for a grandchild.

When I get home, Bear goes crazy for five minutes, and I surrender to his excitement before checking my email.

Yes! There’s one from my agent:

You got the bank commission, so it’s full steam ahead to get it done by the end of the month!

This is huge progress, my first significant piece of work in months. The deadline is insane, but at least it’ll distract me from my treatment.

I fetch the folder of prep work I did, so I can start right away. I’m researching details for the first character – a pre-school girl playing football with her mum – when my phone pings with a WhatsApp message from Casey: