The next morning when she was making the bed she kicked it with her foot then, with a pang of remorse, she picked it up and opened it to the first chapter. Milt’s pen was still on the bedside table. She took it and glanced towards the door, once again expecting to be sprung by Olive, then drew a funny face with goggle eyes and a tongue poking out beside his YES.

A lump of wood shifted in the pot belly with a thud, bringing her back to the present. She glanced down at the book in her hands. So much had happened since those heady days of early marriage. Some wonderful, some not so, but they’d made a decent life together in spite of the hiccups. She flicked through the chapters with their demanding headings written for women of a past era, and caught glimpses of her own writing scribbled around the edges and on the blank pages between chapters. On some pages she’d stuck photos, family snaps from special celebrations, and others had clippings, a favourite cheesecake recipe, Clem’s death notice which included their personal words of love for him. If Olive knew Natalie had turned the precious book into a crazy form of scrapbook she’d be horrified even now.

The pages flopped open at the last chapter, ‘Family before all else’. Immediately she thought of the dark days after Bree was born when she’d believed she’d failed as a mother and a wife. Snatches of words from the page jumped out at her, children are a blessing – she’d even underlined it – keep poorly feelings to herself, not bother her husband with too much baby talk. It had been such a low time in her life. There was a name for it now, post-natal depression, but back then she had simply thought she was going mad and the insidious words had mocked her. That’s why she’d underlined children are a blessing. It had been the first time she’d written in the book since the night she’d shown it to Milt and it had felt good.