Out on the driveway half an hour later, Sarah said Happy New Year again, started heading back inside, stopped and asked if I’d be coming in shortly. She looked sad, or sleepy – maybe both. I’d still not known who to kiss first at midnight, poured the bubbly without looking at either of them until Biddy approached and took the decision out of my hands.

‘We’ll just finish the joint,’ I said.

Sarah nodded, turned again, walked off.

‘These stars,’ Biddy said, hugging.

‘Yeah, aren’t they amazing.’

Sleeping in the sunroom with Biddy would cause distress. Telling her I couldn’t would cause distress.

‘You could maybe just come for a while,’ she said.

‘I’d love to. I’m just feeling a bit uptight about … everything, really.’

‘Maybe I can help you relax.’ She smiled, kissed my neck, little pecks, flakes of summer cantaloupe …

Margot, if she woke for a glass of water, would be able to see us from the kitchen. Oliver and Sophie, if they wet their beds, might get up to look for us.

‘OK,’ I said. ‘Let’s go, but I can’t stay long.’

We brushed our teeth quietly, tiptoed past the kids’ room, past the room Sarah was in, past Ed and Margot’s – floorboards creaking – into the sunroom. I closed the door, joined Biddy on the mattress on the floor. We started undressing each other.

‘I’ve missed this,’ I whispered.

‘Me too. Why don’t you …?’

A condom. Did we have a fucking condom? After Sarah’s bombshell, I’d promised to tell Biddy if Sarah and I ever slept together again without one, and we’d agreed we too should use them until we could get ourselves tested.

She reached behind the mattress, found one – must have bought them in Numurkah – handed it to me, that was lucky, and …

She was outside me, I was inside her, and, Jesus, it felt good, but no matter what, no matter how long, how enjoyable, it was a road to nowhere. The door could open – Sarah. The door could open – Sophie. The door could open – Oliver. The door could open – Ed. The door could open – Margot. The door could open – Harley. The door could open – Axel.

A framed picture on the wall of Sarah’s great-aunt and uncle with their sheep. We’d never get there.

‘I’m sorry,’ I whispered, stopping. ‘Shall we take a break?’

‘Yeah, sure, or … would you like me to go down on you?’ Biddy’s flushed cheeks, amber eyes.

‘Yeah, I would,’ I whispered. ‘I’d love it. But I think I should probably go.’ I propped myself on my elbows, began to retreat.

‘Already?’ She pulled me back into her – yield! – with her legs, stroked my hair.

‘Yeah …’ I began retreating. ‘I need to sleep.’

She pulled me back into her again. ‘We could just sleep here for an hour or so.’