Idly, I run my fingers over his wrist. The space where his watch used to be. He never wears one anymore.

‘I’m waiting,’ he says.

I look up at him quizzically.

‘For my rollicking over the bookcase?’

‘No, it’s fine,’ I say, but then I think of Eva explaining to me that Adam and I bottling everything up has led to our underlying resentment. ‘Actually, it isn’t.’

‘Here we go.’ Adam sits up.

‘I don’t want a row.’ Time is too precious. ‘But can we talk?’

‘Yeah.’ He shuffles over to the corner and pats the cushion next to him.

‘Do you think I nag you?’ I keep my tone soft.

‘A bit.’ He glances at me. ‘You go on about the bookcase a lot. I get it. It’s because you’re pissed off with me about… other things.’

‘It isn’t that at all.’ I make a mental note to come back to the ‘other things’. ‘Sometimes when I complain the bookcase hasn’t been built, it’s because I actually want a bookcase to be built.’

‘I think we both know that—’

‘I’ve got nowhere to put my books,’ I finish, gently. ‘Adam, I’m perfectly capable of building the bookcase. I’m perfectly capable of repainting the kitchen. I’m perfectly capable of decorating the dining room—’

‘You wanted wallpaper in there.’ There’s exasperation in Adam’s voice and I remind myself to keep calm. Part of me wonders whether it’s even worth having this conversation, what good it will do. If… When Adam wakes up, he’s not likely to remember it but still, the thought that I can repair our relationship on some level brings me comfort. It’s a positive step, I think.

‘Okay, so I’m perfectly capable of paying someone to wallpaper the dining room.’ I take his hand. ‘It’s not important to me how things get done, but it seems to be important to you. Every time I offer to help or say I’m going to hire a tradesman, you get pretty shirty.’

‘Yeah, well, I’m the man and I should—’

‘Don’t give me that sexist bullshit. This isn’t the 1950s and you’re all for equality in every other sense. Why does it mean so much to you?’

‘Because. I feel that I should be able to… provide certain things.’

‘Things?’

Adam moves my hand. ‘Want a cuppa?’

‘No. I want to talk. Adam, please.’ I don’t know how long I have with him.

‘I don’t know what to say.’

‘We’re going to be a family soon. We need to learn to communicate.’

‘We talk.’

‘Not properly. Not like we used to. Remember when we met?’

We fall into silence. Both of us back on the beach.

It is me who speaks first. ‘What do you feel you aren’t providing, Adam?’