“A couple of months.”

Horrible realization hits hard, deep in my gut, that it means the problem must lie with me if Ben is capable of conceiving with someone else with such ease. I throw my coffee cup against the wall.

Ben flinches, but doesn’t move. For a few seconds we both stare at the brown stain trickling down the white wall.

“Who is she?”

My mind scans all the possibilities I know. No one springs to mind.

“I told you. No one you know. A colleague. She moved here from France and—”

“How cozy. Get out!” I scream. “Get out!”

Which is exactly what he wants to do, but of course not what I genuinely mean.

I want him to stay, to put his arms around me and tell me that none of what he said is true.

Ben is the only man I’ve ever lived with. I dislike the thought of living alone. When my elder brother left the family home, it was the little, unexpected things that highlighted his absence: his trainers missing by the back door, his blue bike leaning unused against the garden fence, his not being around to take the piss out of me. The things that drove me mad about him were the things I missed the most after he had left with his backpack for “Asia, Africa, Europe—wherever I feel drawn to.” He has yet to return to the real world, and I envy him. Sam chose freedom, leaving me with conformity.

Ben puts on his cycle helmet, clips the strap beneath his chin and walks out the front door. He must be going to see her.

It’s a struggle to catch my breath. I have to push away the horrible, intrusive thoughts insisting that I deserve this karmic payback because of past bad decisions.

Ben is—was—my partner. I was drawn to him partly because he wasn’t a natural risk-taker. He loves being a firefighter, but outside of work he is happy with weekends close to home, a pizza in front of the TV on a Saturday night, plus the odd trip to the cinema. We tend to go for long country walks in the forest, followed by a Sunday pub roast when he’s not working. I wrongly assumed that he was a safe option.

Ben said he felt low down on my list of priorities. I hope I haven’t thrown away my chance of becoming a mother. I tried everything possible to conceive. I was prepared to give anything a go because initial tests showed that there was nothing medically wrong. According to one of the fertility experts I consulted, I just needed to relax. Which was easy for her to say. I tried everything: herbs, hypnosis, yoga, reflexology, acupuncture, a healthy diet. The lack of control and disappointment chipped away at hope, month after month. I feel alone in my desperation.

From now on, I’m going to do things differently.

I dial Stuart’s number.

He has the potential to offer something Ben has now denied me. Every sensible person has a backup plan.