‘But I like you hanging around and annoying me.’ I touched his arm.

‘You know this means we will have money. Money for the baby, money for a proper wedding party knees up,’ Ben said and grinned.

‘Our first dance!’ I said with wide eyes.

And Ben started humming the song he’d tapped on his coffee cup the morning after our first night together. It had unconsciously become ‘our song’.

‘I love being married to you.’ Ben kissed me.

‘Happy birthday, handsome,’ I said again. Ben’s face fell and he looked away to the window, his go-to place for thought or avoidance.

‘What? What is it?’

‘Just birthdays, Daze. It’s not really a thing I ever did. Mum made a bit of an effort…’ His voice trailed off.

‘Listen, if anyone knows how to do birthdays in this house, it’s Eve. Just you wait and see.’

At 7 p.m. we were dressed for dinner. I got Ben settled in the lounge and went to the kitchen to prepare drinks. ‘Beer for me,’ Ben called after me. I followed the sound of pumping music to the kitchen where I found Eve miming into a wooden spoon, her eyes squeezed shut. She opened them as she sensed me arrive, grinned at me, and returned to stirring the pot of beef bourguignon on the stove.

‘Beef is ready to rock and roll, mash is warm in the oven. Where the hell is Patrick?’ Eve said with agitation. On cue, the buzzer went. I noted how Eve pulled off her apron in one swift movement. She had changed into a bright green vintage wraparound dress. She smoothed herself down and pushed her bosom high into her chest with both hands. She gave me an exaggerated smile as she eagerly sashayed her way past me.

‘Finally,’ I could hear her saying as she reached the door. I heard Patrick’s deep booming voice and I imagined his large body filling the hallway and bending down to embrace his girlfriend. I grabbed two beers from the fridge and arrived in the lounge at the same time as Patrick was shaking Ben’s hand and wishing him a happy birthday. Ben had hauled himself off the sofa and had managed a charming expression, as though his mood was lifted at the sight of another male in the vicinity.

Patrick turned to greet me.

‘Hey, Daisy. You’re positively radiant. Pregnancy suits you.’ He took my whole body in his arms and held me tightly. I ignored his comments about my ever-expanding stomach. Instead I inhaled the earthy woodiness of his aftershave, a complete contrast to the citrus scents that Ben wore, and melted into his embrace for a second. Patrick was a few years older than me and Eve, and he seemed wiser in his ways; more like a father figure to me than just a friend.

His strawberry blonde hair was damp with perspiration around his forehead from his walk. This evening he had attempted to cover up his protruding waistline with an Aran jumper that was a size too small and made him look even more like the schoolteacher that he so desperately wished he wasn’t.