She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirrored wardrobes. She could see the swelling under her clothes and she wanted to cry with happiness. She had to do it this time if it killed her. Unlike with the other pregnancies, she felt full of energy, without the familiar dragging feeling inside her belly, or the constant tiredness. She woke up feeling rejuvenated, ready for each new day. She had gradually lost contact with all her old school friends – they had all had babies, and she had not been able to stand it in the end. She still saw them socially, but that was about it. She had hated herself for the jealousy she had felt every time she had seen them hold the babies they had produced, hated herself for not being happy for them, for the bitterness she felt. It was nature, a natural thing that was expected of any woman, and yet she had been denied it over and over again. But not this time.

She heard Michael bounding up the stairs; as always he had come in search of her. It was so touching. She felt a rush of love wash over her. He stood in the bedroom doorway, and she marvelled at the sight of him. He was such a good-looking man, and he still had the power to excite her, make her want him.

‘You having a clear out, then?’

She smiled at him, happy to see him. ‘Not before time, Michael. I’m starting on your wardrobes next.’

He grinned. ‘Go for it. I’m enjoying seeing you so lively.’ He was quiet for a few moments before saying softly, ‘It suits you.’

Josephine laughed. ‘What suits me?’

He was beside her now, and pulling her into his arms. She loved the feel of him, he made her feel so safe and secure.

He kissed her forehead gently, before saying, ‘Being pregnant, Josephine. It suits you, darling. But when were you going to tell me?’

She pulled away slightly to look into his eyes, and she could see the sorrow there, mixed with bewilderment and happiness. ‘How long have you known, Michael?’

He hugged her to him closely. ‘A while, Josephine. I’ve been waiting for you to tell me yourself.’

She wanted to cry, but she couldn’t. He knew, and now she felt a fool – of course he would have known. He wasn’t stupid. But she had really believed she had kept it secret, and that she had done so for his benefit, not hers.

‘Oh, Michael, I didn’t tell anyone, not a soul – no one knows. I thought if it all went wrong, I wouldn’t have to live with the feelings of inadequacy. I wouldn’t have to listen to the well-meaning clichés. If no one knew I could deal with it all myself.’