It was so odd living with Harry in those early days of my pregnancy. We both had such huge secrets. He knew nothing about mine and didn’t have a clue that I knew his. Whenever I looked at him I would wonder whether he was still involved with Ruby or whether everything had changed for them. He certainly wasn’t giving any of the usual signals. He was absolutely present in our marriage and never seemed preoccupied or sad. He was the happiest I’d ever seen him.

And I was happy, too. Of course I was. I was pregnant after thinking it would never happen. But I was furious, too. Harry had caused all this. If he hadn’t been having a fling with Ruby, then I wouldn’t have gone to Tom’s house. I wouldn’t have slept with him, I wouldn’t have gotten pregnant, and I certainly wouldn’t have to put up with Tom bullying me now.

Even though I hadn’t seen Tom again, the threat was still there. Every time Harry was about to leave for work, I ran to the window to check that Tom wasn’t waiting for him, ready to spill the beans. Even though the landline was unlisted, whenever it rang I froze in terror and made sure I grabbed it before Harry could reach it. In the end I turned the sound off; Harry wouldn’t notice as he rarely used it, but it saved me worrying about him picking it up when I was out. And then I went one step further and canceled the landline itself, telling Harry we so rarely used it, it was a waste of money. He’d laughed at this unexpected thriftiness and arranged for that money to go into the baby’s savings plan. In the evening I’d be back at the window again when he was due home, so that I could be there to divert him if I saw Tom. When I’d hear Harry’s car turn into the driveway, I’d check his face, to see whether he looked furious or puzzled or frantic with worry. It was exhausting having to anticipate Tom.

But Harry was always happy now. News of the baby had given him a new lease on life. He’d bound out of bed as soon as the alarm rang every morning, starting the day with a huge smile on his face. He’d kiss me good-bye at the door, holding me tightly and whispering he loved me. It was just like the old days. And at night he’d leap out of his car and run up to the house to find me.

“Hey,” he’d say, wrapping me in his arms. “How are you, sweetheart? Feeling okay?”

“I’m fine,” I’d reply. Physically I was, after that early bout of morning sickness, but mentally I was a wreck.