‘It’s just different to what you were saying last year.’ He puts the plate down and moves closer, adding in a whisper, ‘You know that if it happens, it happens. I thought the girls were enough. I thought I was.’

Oli tilts her head. Takes a step backwards. ‘Am I not allowed to change my mind?’

He gives her a look and clears his throat. ‘Let’s talk later.’

She instantly regrets being deliberately obtuse. Echoes of her eruption a fortnight ago ring in her ears; for some reason, all the thoughts and feelings she’d been ignoring for months finally bubbled over. Playing mother to the twins isn’t enough—it hasn’t sated her maternal desire as she’d hoped it would. She and Dean had been curled around each other in bed talking about Christmas plans, then out of nowhere she found herself rushing off to sob in the ensuite. As she tried to explain, Dean hovered around her and wiped tears from her cheeks, but she saw the surprise in his eyes. ‘I didn’t think you wanted a baby this much?’ he murmured uncertainly.

‘I’m probably too old anyway,’ Oli said. ‘I’m almost forty.’

‘The youngest, hottest almost-forty-year-old I’ve ever known.’

She raised the idea of going to see a fertility specialist and Dean listened and nodded, then kissed her eyelids and ran her a bath, gently washing every inch of her, drying her and carrying her back to bed, holding her until she fell asleep.

They haven’t spoken about it until now, although she has sensed Dean has wanted to. She feels ashamed, ungrateful. She isn’t exactly sure what she wants to say, isn’t really sure what she wants, and it feels easier just to let days slide by. To say nothing.

Dean knocks back the last of his smoothie. Tickles his daughters and ruffles their hair. Then, in an obvious attempt to make peace, he grabs Oli from behind, briefly pressing his body against hers. He curls a hand around each wrist, pinning her to the bench, his hot breath snaking into her ear. ‘You make me so crazy. I can’t wait to be in bed with you tonight.’ He pulls her hands together and places his left one over them both, then kisses his way up her neck.

She hates when he does this in front of the girls, but in spite of herself heat zaps through her. For a minute it’s like how it used to be, when they would meet in dark bars to have drinks and dinner over candlelight, their limbs tangled in a dimly lit corner. When their nights were full of exquisite delayed gratification.

Kate shrieks again, shattering Oli’s reverie. She wriggles out of Dean’s hold and hastily wipes the bench with a cloth. The newsreader drones on in the background.