Finally, the truth hit her: a baby was the furthest thing from Tommy’s mind. It was a joke. They hadn’t even made love yet on this holiday. And despite the fact that she had told Julie he had agreed to have a child, she knew now that that wasn’t the case. He had placated her with this cruise, just as he had appeased her last year when she had brought up the subject by buying her a new car. The year before that he had mollified her with the house.

She had been so stupid. She had believed that the car (a family one) and the house (also a family one) were signs that he was preparing for their little unit to grow.

She swiped at her cheeks as tears dripped down them, cold rivers on her face. Where did that leave her? She was thirty-five, the years were rolling on. Soon she would be forty, with nothing to show for it. It was too late to start again, and even the thought of it was enough to make her feel sick. How would she cope on her own, with no skills apart from the ability to keep a beautiful home?

Anna popped into her head. Beautiful, independent Anna who needed no man, who oversaw a whole company and took holidays on her own. A woman who sat naked in saunas, showing off her body with absolute confidence; who moved easily into conversations and friendships with strangers.

A jagged gasp escaped, and she put her gloved hand to her mouth, very aware that it could easily turn into a scream. How could she be like Anna when she had gone from her childhood house to shared student accommodation to a home with Tommy? She had never been on her own, wasn’t cut out for it. She didn’t have a job or a career or an ambition. She felt swamped, drowning in realisation of facts she had never before let herself acknowledge.

She pushed herself up from the bench and turned in the direction of the bar. Her head was swimming with things she didn’t want to feel, but she shoved the thoughts and fears away and went to find her husband.

There was nothing for it; she had to make it work.

There was nothing else.

Tommy had a prime seat in the bar, underneath the large flat-screen TV. Around him sat a dozen other men, pints in hand, eyes fixed on the game.

Paula looked around, saw no other women, wondered where the spouses of all these men were. Not shopping, not in this hick town, that was for sure. Or maybe they didn’t even have wives or girlfriends; maybe they were locals, bachelors, living the kind of life that would have suited Tommy just fine.