It took us ten minutes to pack our bags. I know I felt dreadful lying to him like that and I assumed he felt the same, for when I came out of the bathroom with an armful of toiletries I saw him standing by the window. On his face I saw the expressions that I had felt myself: shame and grief, but joy, too, at being given a second chance.

•   •   •

For nine glorious days we stayed away from home and spent every moment together. I’d insisted we fly from Liverpool, not wanting to go to Manchester airport after seeing him there with Ruby, and we’d ended up on a late flight to the South of France. It was like a second honeymoon. We slept in every morning, with no alarm to waken us, and lazed in the sun and swam in the pool. I tried and tried to find something I could eat without feeling ill. When I discovered ginger biscuits did the trick, Harry would call down to reception and ask for them to be delivered to our room, where he’d feed them to me, a tiny piece at a time. I could see how much he loved me, how much he wanted this child, and with each passing day I could see him move closer to me, farther away from Ruby.

Of course I let myself wonder at times what would have happened if I hadn’t gotten pregnant. Of course I did. But then I forced myself to remember the night I’d spent with Tom, too. If Harry had been smitten by Ruby, I think that week away cured him of it. Put it this way: In bed it was as though there’d never been anyone else in our marriage. And now we didn’t wait until dark. Afterward there were whispers and caresses, instead of us turning away and never referring to it again. There were sly smiles the next morning and a race to bed in the afternoon. It was better than it had been for years.

“Let’s switch off our phones,” he’d said the moment we left our house. “Have a real holiday.”

“What? But you never do that.”

“I am now. Things are going to change, Emma. I don’t want real life to intrude on us. I want to celebrate this baby.” His eyes were bright with tears. “I feel as though we’ve had a new chance.”

I leaned over to hug him. I was so relieved that he didn’t want to contact Ruby that I accepted what he said at face value, never realizing for a minute he had another reason for going off-grid.

“Send Annie a message saying we need a holiday,” he said. “I’ll e-mail Dave”—Dave was his right-hand guy at work—“and tell him to take over everything. Let’s have a complete break from real life.”