She thought of Jim, cooing over her sister’s kids whenever they visited; the delight in their faces when they saw him, since kids seemed to love Jim as much as he loved them. Yes, he’d agreed to wait until they were older, but she knew he’d never agree to a termination now it had happened. So if she decided she wanted to get rid of it, she couldn’t ever tell him she’d been pregnant. She met Maggie’s eyes and knew she didn’t need to spell it out.

‘I get it, Syl. God, I get it. But you can’t do that to him.’ Maggie took Sylvia’s hand and held it in her lap, and Sylvia felt the roughness of her friend’s skin, a badge of honour for the hours she’d spent in the art studios at Saint Martin’s, creating the pieces that had won her a hard-earned art degree and her new job at the National Theatre. ‘Can you?’

‘I don’t know, Mags.’ But she didn’t think she could do the alternative, either.

She made an appointment for the next morning and had her suspicions confirmed. Dr Greenham clearly expected a delighted response on delivering such happy news, but she sat mute, in shock despite having already known what he would say. Then he glanced at the single diamond on her finger and his face changed.

‘When are you due to marry?’ he asked.

‘Next summer,’ she said.

‘Do it quickly and you’re out of trouble.’ He said it kindly, conspiratorially, as though she should be grateful. But instead she felt as though the walls of the office were closing in.

‘What are my other options?’ She held her head high as she said it, watching his smile drop and his eyes narrow. He handed her a piece of paper, telling her to read it and think very carefully. It’s not an option, he said. It’s a medical procedure only carried out if two doctors agree to it. It’s not like having a tooth out. He glared at her over his spectacles and she bristled at being made to feel like a child in front of the headmaster.