“Ben did me a favor,” he says. “You’ve been amazing, Marie. Truly. I’m glad you’re here.”

He reaches for his phone and glances at the time. “It’s late. I’m going to feel like shit tomorrow.”

I try not to take it personally.

He gets up and heads for the bathroom, quietly shutting the door behind him. We’re too new for a casual open-door intimacy. His phone screen dims, the room goes black. I reach over and tap his phone, the screen relights. It’s then that I notice that it’s still unlocked.

It’s a flash decision, I can’t resist. I scroll: call lists, messages, nothing too interesting. Some from me—I clearly keep in touch with him more than I realize. Notes. Stuart is a list-keeper.

The toilet flushes. I reach for my own phone and snap pictures of the top few notes and place his phone back down, sliding mine under my pillow.

When he emerges, he doesn’t seem to clock that his screen is still light enough for him to see his way back to bed. As he lies next to me, it dims again.

We hold each other tightly in the darkness. It’s nice. Well, as long as I can keep mentally blocking out Nina. I must keep reminding myself that I’m not just any other woman or girlfriend. I’m the best possible option there is, whichever way you look at it.

When he’s asleep, I lock myself in the bathroom with my phone. Stuart’s notes are odd, but in fairness, so are mine. They’re a hodgepodge of random things I need to remember and I even make a note of my dreams sometimes so I’ve got something to say when Christian occasionally asks me about them.

The latest note is a flight number, date and time. Oh my God, he looked up Camilla’s flight in advance. Did he really even have a meeting in Windsor? He’s never gone there before to my knowledge.

My heart starts to beat a little faster.

The next is a reminder to buy mouthwash.

The one after that is harder to decipher.

Veg recipes, dog treats, work-related interest, thank-you gift from F&E. Stability.

It’s only when I start to shiver that I realize I’m cold and how long I’ve been sitting on the edge of the bath trying to make sense of things.

As I climb back into bed, I feel nauseous. But as I’m finally drifting off, I hear a cry. I sit up. Stuart doesn’t stir, even when I switch on my bedside light.

I pull on my dressing gown and open our bedroom door fully. Emily’s light is on. She’s sitting up in bed, tears streaming down her face. “Emily, darling, what’s wrong?”

“I dreamed about Mummy.”

I hug her. I don’t know what else to do or say for the best. She breaks away and hands me a mini photo album. “Mummy gave me this to me for when I’m sad.”

I flick through all the pictures of Nina and Emily.