The atmosphere has eased a little at work since yesterday’s shock discovery. Henry and Olive have accepted I might be leaving with only a month’s notice – and this morning it’s been agreed they will begin to look for a replacement but won’t fill my position before I leave. If I leave. The prospect is becoming more improbable by the day – a detail that I’m finding increasingly depressing. As, it seems, is Richard – who has decided not to travel down to see me or the boys again this weekend. We’re both frustrated the process is taking so much longer than we’d first hoped. The excitement of talking about our wonderful future together, the fun we had looking at houses we could make our home, has waned over the last few weeks. It’s increasingly hard to remain upbeat, but I must try. I want him to be desperate to drive down to see me, to drop everything like he did at the beginning, just so we can have a few snatched hours together.

‘Does this Richard really exist?’ Barb had asked in a chirpy, jokey voice when she called for “an update” last night, despite us having had the miscommunication the night before. I laughed it off, but it niggled me. I want to prove her wrong, show her what a fantastic man he is, what a great role model he’ll be for the boys – while being ultra-careful not to suggest he’ll take Nick’s place in their hearts, though, of course. But now I’m facing another weekend without him visiting and another round of probing questions from Barb. He cited work commitments again for him being unable to make the trip to Devon this Friday evening. I offered to come to him, but of course … work commitments; it’d be a waste of my time, he said, as he’d be at the office dealing with an important software update, or some such technical process beyond my comprehension.

I can’t help but feel low. Things aren’t moving fast enough; the universe is ostensibly fighting against my future happiness. I want to be able to put the stressors aside, concentrate on what makes our relationship light, fun. That’s what drew me to him, his ability to make me laugh – to not take everything so seriously, like Nick did. He makes even the mundane things interesting, and I can spend hours talking about a TV programme we’ve both watched, a song we’ve come across or amusing overheard conversations. Small, inconsequential things. The separation, the house sale – those topics seem to have overtaken all that.