Kate, Naomi and Suze had all come through for Camilla. They’d been coming round to see her, to commiserate over the bastard husband who’d just run off and left her. I thought of the WAF initiative; it may have started out as a farce but it had proven to be a huge success. Flicking through the reports from the other WAF groups, there was nothing but effusive praise from everyone involved. All had voted for it to continue. Everyone needed support. And not just from the person they lived with. I thought of my female friends. Of all the times I had turned to them when I wasn’t sure what to do. Reassurance whenever I questioned a decision. Help when childcare was an issue. Laughter at a time when otherwise it would be tears. Us women relied on each other. We understood each other, sometimes better than the men in our lives. We could build each other up in a way only we knew how. Tell each other we were doing brilliantly, when husbands forgot to, or didn’t even notice. We needed each other just as much as the man we may live with, sometimes even more so, as friends would still be there, even if the man no longer was.

*

As we drove the short distance home, I realised that Frederick had only turned my head as he’d reminded me of what the beginning of a relationship could be like. The getting-to-know-each-other thrills. It wasn’t real life and daily logistics. It wasn’t remembering to take the bins out. Sitting through dinners with their colleagues, friends, relatives who bored you. It was easy in the early stages. You were being your best self. Nice underwear. Not the comfortable kind. Engaged conversation, not checking your phone. You were making an effort. He was making an effort. Everything was shiny and new. But then, like all nice new toys, they grow dull. The gloss and sheen of a new flirtation eventually gives way to the mundane of familiarity.

But being reminded of the early days. Being appreciated. Feeling special. Getting those moments was important. Remembering us as a couple and not just us as parents. I might never be able to be fully honest with Will about my job. But I could at least be more open about what I was feeling.

Maybe, just as with my work, I needed my home life to have that spark. And if it was missing now, I needed to bring it back.

‘We’re home!’ I opened the door and Gigi went running through the hallway and into Will’s arms.

‘Dada!’

He looked at me over her head as she clung to him. I walked up to them and gave him a kiss.

‘Back at last.’

‘Bed now, Dada,’ said Gigi. It was no wonder she was tired. It had been a long day of travelling.

‘Come on, sweetheart. I’ll take you up.’