Drained after a weekend that seemed to have consisted of her crying pretty much all the time, lying awake when she wasn’t, drinking too much and being offered comfort that really only touched the surface of her pain, Romy now felt virtually incapable of answering.

‘Did you realize?’ Leo was asking.

She moved towards him and pulled him into a hug, feeling his arms go round her, squeezing her tight. Of course she’d realized. But she wished Michael hadn’t shared his feelings with Leo. It wasn’t fair on their son and it felt like pressure.

Leo pulled back and looked into her face. ‘You’re OK, aren’t you, Mum? Dad worried me, saying you were so miserable. I’ll totally help you with the carer thing. I know I’ve been a bit useless recently, what with work …’

In that moment Romy wanted so badly to be honest with her son, to tell Leo everything, about Grace, about Finch. And to expose for what it was the fantasy that hovered over them all: that she and Michael might soon be together again.

‘I’m fine, sweetheart,’ she lied, touched by his concern. ‘And you haven’t been at all useless. But I’d really appreciate some help finding a replacement for Daniel.’

She heard a sound in the hall, and as she opened the door she was confronted by her husband, hovering just outside, balancing on a crutch. She felt as if she’d been caught out in something shameful.

‘Hi, Michael.’

‘You two having a conference?’ His smile was eager, almost childlike.

‘Yes,’ Romy said brightly, trying to shake off her thoughts. ‘We’ve been talking about you – in secret, of course.’

Michael raised his eyebrows, manoeuvring himself to lean against the wall with a sigh, his crutch still clutched in his right hand. ‘What trouble I cause these days,’ he said, with such exaggerated weariness that Romy found herself laughing.

‘Have you been rehearsing that?’ she asked, the laugh beginning to take on a mind of its own and burgeoning into a hysterical giggle. It didn’t feel so different from the crying that had overtaken her at the weekend.

Michael also began to chuckle. ‘You malign me, my dear,’ he said, with a dramatic eye roll, then added, ‘I’ve been rehearsing that, too.’ The pair of them were well away now, Michael’s drawn face losing years in a second as he let himself go and laughed with her – about nothing, really – until both were gulping and wiping tears from their eyes.

Their son looked on, nonplussed.

‘Sorry, Leo,’ Romy managed to gasp before dissolving into giggles again.

But the exertion was too much for Michael, and Romy watched him slowly slide down the wall, then keel gently left, until his head was resting on the cream carpet.