“I thought you’d be pleased? We’ve given notice to the registrar, filled in, signed and paid for all we need to. There are no other formalities.”

“I am. It’s a lot to take in.”

“It’s just a formality,” he says. “You’ll find that not much changes afterward.”

I don’t know how I feel about that either. Yet, despite my initial reaction at feeling a bit left out of the main arrangements, it is a relief that my life is moving on. It’s a nicely rewarding feeling to have come this far.

Somehow, Stuart has managed to persuade Deborah to come in some days after school to help with the children. When she’s around, I lie on my bed but it’s not always possible to drown out the noise and I feel lazy not getting involved, plus there’s Goldie to walk when I’m able to.

One Wednesday—Thursday?—afternoon, as I doze on and off, gratefully giving in to the gentle drifting in and out of consciousness, the sound of a lawnmower outside my window intrudes. It weaves its way into my dreams and everything is rewound. Nina is in bed, and I am sitting in the wicker chair beside her, just the way it was only a year ago. I open my eyes, dribbling, disoriented. I’m horrified when I focus properly to see Deborah standing in the doorway.

She looks as though she’s going to say something, but manages to stop herself. She leaves, but not before I saw the look of utter hatred in her eyes. It’s acutely shocking to be on the receiving end of such a clear death wish.

I force myself up, the urge to tell her that I’m not bad is so strong, but she’s no longer upstairs. In the distance, I hear the front door slam shut. I should get the locks changed.

Thank God, when the big day arrives, I feel better, but from the moment I open my eyes, it’s surreal, like drinking too much. Naturally, I’ve photographed a lot of weddings, and as a result, I’ve inevitably imagined mine from time to time. What I would or wouldn’t do, have or not have. I’m not against living with someone indefinitely, but I could never have predicted how today would turn out. It’s definitely a low-key day for a low-key event.

Prewedding doubts are normal for any bride. I did consider talking to Stuart, thinking of alternative ways, until I considered our baby’s future and their half brother and sister.

Felix has regular nightmares, he misses Nina dreadfully, and Stuart and I take turns to comfort him, often into the early hours. He needs stability and someone he can trust. There is a stubborn part of me that feels I shouldn’t give in to the haters and doubters who are stacking up: Camilla, Deborah, Tamsin (she said it put her in a very awkward position), Ben, my own father.

To hell with what people think. They don’t know me or appreciate my good intentions. This is my choice and it feels good to stand up to everyone. Stuart isn’t exactly the man of my dreams, but Charlie was unfaithful before he died, Ben left me and from what I’ve generally discovered, gradual disillusionment eventually chips away at a lot of marriages, regardless of how optimistically they start out. I only have to consider the high divorce rate to trust that there must be some collective truth. My mum seems happy, but in all honesty, who knows. Stuart’s parents are the only ones to have said anything positive.