“Choose whatever candle you like, I’m not that fussed. We don’t even have to light one,” I say. “By the way, I haven’t cooked. I’ve ordered in from a decent restaurant.”

“Perfect.”

“Cheers!” I say to Stuart.

“Cheers!”

We are standing close to each other.

“You look nice,” he says.

I smooth down my hair. “Thanks, so do you.”

“I—” we both say at the same time. We laugh. It breaks the ice.

“I was going to invite Camilla, too, but she said she’d caught up with you on the drive back from Heathrow,” I say.

He doesn’t hesitate in his response. “Fair enough.”

“I didn’t realize you were collecting her and Louise from the airport.”

“It was a last-minute arrangement,” he says. “I was in the area, remembered that she was due back and thought that I may as well.”

“Oh.”

“I guess I forgot to mention it, what with the surprise arrival of Goldie.”

The doorbell rings: our delivery. We both stand up. I let him go.

As I’m about to spoon our Japanese fusion dishes onto plates, Stuart comes up behind me and puts his arms around my waist.

“I’m sorry, I know I’ve been a bit off. It was hard for me. It was like admitting Nina was gone all over again. It felt unfaithful somehow.”

Relief floods. “I understand. It’s strange for me, too. I’m happy to take things slowly. I know it’s hard for you and you have to put the children first.”

“Camilla suggested that I hire a part-time nanny. She felt that it might be fairer on you so that you can be more flexible with your working hours. Perhaps she has a point? I know you’ve turned down weekend weddings because of social commitments involving me and the children.”

Anger surges. “Oh come on, Stuart! Since when has Camilla cared about my welfare? What the children definitely do not need is a stranger giving them orders in their own home, of all places. What they need is love, security and consistency. I’m here. I know I’m not Nina, but I’m not trying to be. I’m me.”

“I agree, but when she said it, I can’t deny it touched a nerve. It made me feel freshly concerned that maybe I’ve been selfish by relying on you so heavily. Long-term, I have to do what’s best for the family.”

I’m what’s best. Stuart has to understand that.

It’s two thirty before I’m tired enough to sleep, but the bed is empty. I check the bathroom. I wonder if one of the children has woken up, but I’m kidding myself. He’s gone back to “their” room.

I open the door. Stuart’s asleep. I slide in next to him and pull the duvet over. It’s cold, I lie rigid, unsure what to do. What am I doing here, really? Sleep feels impossible. He doesn’t snore like Ben. A fondness toward him comes over me. I toss around until he half wakes up.

“Nina?” He sits up.