And despite the overriding smell of newness (even the bed linen is new, the colors opposite to the ones Nina chose), I cannot shake the feeling that she is watching. I imagine Stuart feels the same as we both change in the bathroom and slip under the covers. We switch off the light, lie in each other’s arms and talk. We grab at neutral, pleasant, nonthreatening subjects until I feel myself drifting off to sleep, almost too scared to move. I must get over it. I can make more physical changes, yet perhaps—like lots of things in life—it’s only time that will truly make a real difference.

When I wake up, it is quiet and late.

There is a note.

Morning, Mrs. Thompson...

I cringe at his cloying attempt at jollity.

I do not feel like a Mrs. Thompson. I feel weird. It’s almost like homesickness, a strange combination of feeling crushed, suffocated or trapped. I don’t understand this feeling.

Nina didn’t change her name, she remained Nina Beaufort, although she agreed that the children could have Stuart’s name. I had long conversations with her about the decision. She felt it was important that she didn’t lose any sense of herself or her identity.

I’m glad that I have chosen something she didn’t.

I am not the second Mrs. Thompson. I am the first.

My optimism is short-lived as I read on.

Thought I’d let you get a well-deserved rest. F and E at school. Got something to sort out work-wise so head for the hospital and I’ll meet you there.

Love, Stuart x

Today is such an incredible milestone: my twenty-week scan. I’ve dreamed of this day and every step we make along the way to meeting my child. We’ve decided not to find out the sex. Nina found out during both her pregnancies, and Stuart has confessed that he felt robbed of the surprise.

“Surely it doesn’t matter as long as they’re healthy, clichéd as it sounds?” he’d said when I raised the topic for discussion. “I was so grateful that Felix and Emily were born without any complications.”

“As I will be,” I say, although I really want a boy, if I’m honest.

Of course, I can’t ever tell anyone this, but I still find Felix so much more amenable than Em. It’s like she goes out of her way to remind me that I’m not her mother. She has a lot of Nina in her.

Despite leaving plenty of time for the appointment, parking is even more of a nightmare than usual. By the time I obtain a space at the Park & Ride, wait for and catch the bus, I feel weak and a bit tearful. I munch on a fruit bar as I call Stuart several times, but he doesn’t answer.

In the waiting room, I read the latest book club selection. It’s dreadful, I knew it would be. I tried to steer Greg away from his choice but he insisted that this was an important book to read. It’s not. It’s trying to ram a controversial point home and it makes me uncomfortable.