‘But the school I was looking at is in Maidstone, and what about a job? And then we’d have to move again, once the houses were sold – it’s a huge upheaval and I don’t really want to put the boys through it all twice, Richard.’

‘I thought you couldn’t wait for us to be together?’ His face crumples.

‘I can’t wait for us to be all together in our own place. We’d still be living separately and miles apart. I mean, I completely understand your logic, and of course I’d rather be that much closer to you, but it would be a lot of extra work. Then trying to handle the house sale from further away—’

‘Okay. You don’t have to make any more excuses. I get it,’ Richard says, then pushes up from the sofa, knocking against me as he does. He walks out towards the back door, leaving me feeling guilty and ungrateful. At least he’s trying, and it goes some way to boosting my confidence that he does really want me and the boys. Bearing in mind my uneasiness about being in this house, maybe I should give it some serious thought, rather than dismissing it out of hand. I walk into the kitchen and stand behind him. We’re both silent, looking out into the darkening garden.

‘I’m coming across as an ungrateful bitch, I’m sorry,’ I say, slipping my hands around his waist and nuzzling into his broad chest.

‘And I’m coming across as a pushy twat. So, that makes us equal.’ He kisses the top of my head; his beard tickles my forehead. ‘I apologise for dropping my idea on you like that. I’ve had time to think about it, get used to it. I shouldn’t expect you to be ecstatic with the plan the first time you hear it.’

‘Let’s discuss it more over the meal tonight,’ I say positively.

‘We’re going out?’ He looks surprised.

‘Yes. I thought it would make a change – we seem to always end up eating a takeaway and I wanted to make this more of a special occasion, just the two of us. I’ve got babysitters lined up.’ I smile.

‘Oh. I’d really rather stay in and spend the evening cosied up to you, my love.’

My heart dips. I’ve been looking forward to a night out. I don’t want to be stuck inside again. My entire nightlife consists of TV and sofa these days; I wanted to dress up and feel good.

‘Oh, dear. I’m not doing well, am I?’ he says. ‘Look at that unhappy face.’ He pushes the corners of his mouth down and lifts my chin with his fingers. He stares intently at me, his deep brown eyes penetrating mine. ‘I’ve made the boys happy, but I’m doing a piss-poor job of making their mummy happy. Where have you booked?’