‘I had a chatty email from your mum, and Hannah texted to say she had a long chat with you. Have you heard from Owen?’ I ask.

‘Yes, to both. Guess it made me a bit homesick. They both said how well you looked and how content. France suits you, it seems.’

Oh, so this is what… regret? Or mistrust because I should be miserable without him? A little nerve at the side of my eye begins to twitch, as feeling mildly cross begins to turn into full-on annoyance.

‘God, there are moments I wish I’d never started this,’ he admits, his words coming out in a rush. ‘Sorry, Fern, I’ve had a bad day, that’s all. And with Owen heading off on his first deployment abroad, I know your parents are anxious. If we were still at home, you’d be there to—’

He comes to an abrupt halt. I feel like returning a quick retort about making one’s bed and lying in it, but that would be mean. I know my anger is irrational and I’m shocked at the strength of my reaction, but I don’t know why we can’t simply talk through whatever has happened. I decide, instead, to change the subject. ‘How are the plans for Thailand coming along? Any news?’

He sighs, a tired edge to his voice indicating that maybe he’s been overdoing it and now my guilt begins to kick in. He must witness a lot of the harsher realities of life on a daily basis, things I can’t even begin to understand. He’s not holidaying but helping a community where everyday problems can quickly escalate out of control. It’s even tougher when kids are involved, and I know that will be hard on him. Whatever he’s witnessed, he’s taken it to heart.

‘Good. It’s all coming together, and the flights have now been booked,’ he confirms. Flights? As in several legs to the journey, or more than one person flying?

‘That’s great.’ Well, maybe it is; or maybe it’s not.

‘You know, Fern, one thing I’ve realised is that you’ve always been there to smooth things over for me. Even through the rough times, you just stepped up. You know, when it all went wrong, and I lost us everything we had. And a year later, when your sister died in that tragic accident, I didn’t know how to handle it. Now I wonder whether you ever felt that I didn’t man up, that I let you down on both occasions?’

My stomach tightens, and my throat constricts a little. He’s raking over the past, the things we haven’t referred to in years. Why now?