And then she’d missed a period.

She’d sat on the toilet seat in his bathroom, the stick in her hand, hyperventilating as she was confronted by what was without a doubt the most scary, spontaneous thing she’d ever done.

She didn’t tell Seb. She could see now that she’d automatically reverted to her default mode for crisis management. She’d buried it, tried not to think about it because it was so huge, but then she’d realized that pretty soon she’d be huge, and keeping busy or ignoring it wasn’t an option this time.

So she told him, and again he’d surprised her because instead of walking away as she’d expected, he’d laughed out loud, then scooped her up and swung her round and said that being parents was going to be the most exciting adventure of all. He’d sold his motorbike (because even he wasn’t willing to strap a baby to a bike), she’d moved out of her apartment and into his, and they’d set up home together. She’d cleared the tiny second bedroom and turned it into a nursery. She’d painted fields with sheep and cows on the walls and fluffy clouds on the ceiling and hadn’t bothered scrubbing at the paint that had covered her fingers and streaked her hair.

She’d given up her job in an agency and turned freelance so that she’d have more control over her time. She’d loved this new version of herself almost as much as she loved their life. She loved it so much she even managed to weather her mother’s disapproval and dire prophesies that such impetuousness could only end in disaster. Her mother thought she was being ruled by emotion, and Christy didn’t disagree. But she did disagree that it was a bad thing. She liked feeling things! Feeling was good. Yes, there were lows, but there were also highs, and the highs made it all worth it. But it turned out that it wasn’t easy to be spontaneous when you had a baby. Holly’s needs were all-consuming and left no room for spontaneity. And just when Holly had started to settle into a routine that might have allowed some free time, Elizabeth had died.

Christy coped with the crippling grief the only way she knew. By staying busy. She’d made lists, then longer lists, until there were no empty gaps in her day. She hadn’t even been aware she’d reverted to her old self until a few nights before when Seb had thrown away her notebook and spontaneously booked the trip to London. It was like waking up from a long dream. Yes, she’d thought, I remember this. And I remember loving it.

Their few days together hadn’t been quite enough for them to rediscover what they’d once had, but it was a reminder that if they searched hard enough they might find it.

She was no longer surprised Seb hadn’t told her he’d lost his job. After painful reflection, she could see why he hadn’t wanted to tell her the truth. She’d maintained an almost frantic grip on life, trying to control it, trying to shape it the way she wanted it. She’d blocked out bad things with routine and fairy lights, but control was an illusion, wasn’t it? She knew that. But by controlling other things, she managed to forget it, because acknowledging that life could be random and cruel was scary. She’d given him no signals that she could cope with change.