He goes to the fridge for a beer. “The new practice nurse had to attend one of my visits as a chaperone.” I stop stirring the chili. “We had chicken and chips to keep us going.”

My hand tightens round the wooden spoon. “You definitely didn’t say anything this morning about having to do home visits.”

“I should have rung you. I’m sorry. The chicken and chips were shit as well. I’d much rather have had your chili.” He grins. “It smells almost as good as one of mine.” He puts his beer on the counter and draws me to his chest. “You’re not angry with me, are you?”

“Of course not. It’s no big deal.”

Actually, I’m livid, especially at the thought of him grabbing a bite to eat with a nurse while I’ve been stuck at home checking my phone every five minutes, but there’s no way I’m telling him that. He’s right. It’s all just a misunderstanding and I’ve overreacted.

He picks up his beer. “Come on, I’ll sit with you while you eat. You must be starving if you’ve waited this long.”

We go and sit on the sofa in the living room, using one of the unpacked boxes as a table. The evening can still be salvaged. Although I don’t think I’m strong enough to tell him about Alice now. There’s been quite enough emotion for one day.

“I went to Greenwich University this afternoon,” I say instead. “They had an open day.”

Ross looks at me, surprised. “You didn’t say anything about that,” he says.

Just like you didn’t say anything about working late, I almost say, but stop myself just in time. He warned me when we first got together how overworked GPs are. He’s bound to forget things sometimes and I know how difficult it is for him to have to do home visits on top of his already heavy workload. Plus, there’s even more for him to worry about now that he’s decided to go for the new partnership position that’s coming up.

“It was advertised in the local paper. I only looked at it properly this morning.”

“And?”

“And I really like the sound of doing an English degree.”

Ross takes a swig from his beer. “Just so long as you don’t meet a good-looking, earnest young man who wants to read you poetry and get in your knickers. Because you’ve already got one of those at home.”

“I don’t remember you ever reading me poetry?”

“True, but I am good-looking.” He gives me a worried look. “Would you like me to read you poetry?”

I laugh. “No, you’re all right, thanks. I appreciate the offer, though.”