‘Our first ever family day,’ he’d said as they set off, kissed her hand. She’d made a small, soft noise and curled up in her seat, slept for almost the whole journey. He’d stopped the car at one point, very gently, and tucked his scarf in between her belly and the seatbelt, just to be sure.

Sure enough, heads turned as he shepherded her past a sad-looking Christmas tree and across to a table by the fire, but the two of them were always going to stand out in a place like this, a pub full of sensible hiking gear and a wall-mounted newspaper rack stuffed with copies of the Daily Mail.

‘There,’ he said, ‘there. Is that – wait, are you going to be too warm sitting right beside it? Tell you what – you get warmed up and then we’ll swap places when it gets too hot for you. Make sure you let me know, OK? Right. I’ll get menus. I bet you’re starving. What do you fancy? Lasagne? Burger? Something with iron in. Not much choice here, but you know – can’t beat pub grub.’

‘I’ll just have chips.’

‘Just chips? You should eat more. Go on. My treat.’

‘It’s always your treat, isn’t it?’

Oh God, was she going to be like this again? Since the royalties from her song had all but dried up, at more or less the same time as the bookings, Clio had been snappy about money. She never really listened when he explained that they were married now, a unit, that it made him happy to spend his money on his wife; anyway, it wasn’t like she was doing anything about it either. She hadn’t even picked up a guitar since their wedding. He’d gone out of his way to get her session work at first, pressured those bands who owed him favours from the early days to bring her in as a backing singer, but that only made her more miserable. And he understood that. It was an artist thing – she didn’t like taking second place. He knew the feeling all too well himself. If she wasn’t going to be making music, though, he was sure she needed something else in her life. He’d been amazed when she’d agreed, further amazed that it had happened so quickly, jumped from an idea to a blue line on a stick in only a month. So today he swallowed down the same old argument they’d always had, moved round to sit on the bench beside her, pulled her in to him and kissed her head.

‘Just think of it as my way of saying thank you. For all the work you’re doing. I never want you to feel unappreciated.’ He intoned the words into her hair, breathing in the high floral pulse of her shampoo.