I didn’t want Biddy to feel bad about our relationship, mainly because it meant unhappiness for me. I should pull the plug, let us flatline.

I could barely move. The kids were still sleeping, it seemed. I texted Zac: You awake?

Three dots, then: Yeah!

Me: Can you come through?

Three dots: Yeah!

The living-room door opened, Zac’s footsteps in the hallway. He was in his boxers, no top. He got to his knees, put his elbows on the end of the bed, yawned. ‘I feel so rested.’

‘Yeah, I know. Biddy’s already at the airport.’ I held up the phone, showed him her selfie. ‘You get any sleep?’

‘A little. But I also spent a bit of time in the backyard, just smoking or whatever. Some weed would have been nice.’

‘Yeah.’

‘I had this really weird experience when I came back into the house. You know the photo of you and Sarah in the kitchen, the little one?’

The photobooth picture from our wedding day in Daylesford, both of us smiling as if the good times were just beginning.

I nodded.

‘You know the thing it’s in? The … fuck, what’s wrong with my brain?’ He drew a square with his fingers, tapped his forehead. ‘In Spanish we call it a marco.’

‘The frame?’

‘Yes, thank you … So, the frame. There was condensation covering your faces, so I took it down and put my thumb on it, and just kind of did this really slowly.’ He mimicked a careful wiping motion. ‘I know it sounds weird, but I really felt like I was guarding you, that it was my job to protect your family.’

9

9

I blew kisses to the sleeping kids at their door, found Sarah on our bed, already in her pyjamas, clipping her toenails.

‘Fancy a neck rub?’

‘Really?’ she said.

I’d given her so few in recent years. In the past, I’d tickled her regularly, her arms mostly, made the hairs stand on end. Back rubs, massages. The truth was, she’d never been much of a giver, with me at least … but she received well, sometimes, like a cat.

And now Assi was ghosting her.

I took off my jeans, rolled them up, threw them into the wardrobe, turned to face Sarah in my work shirt and boxers, looked down at my protruding package, waited for her to pounce.

She sighed, stared at her toes.

I got onto the bed, knelt behind her, rubbed my hands together, held the base of her neck, started kneading.

‘Ohhh,’ she said. ‘Ohhhh. That’s good.’

She was supposed to be going away with Assi the following weekend while I looked after Sophie and Oliver.

‘Ohhh. Ohhh.’

My boxers bulged. That’s all it took with Sarah – Ohhhh.

‘I’m so stiff,’ she said.