‘So, why don’t you? You should text some mates and go out with them.’

He turns up his nose. ‘I suppose I could. But I really wanted to go with my gorgeous girlfriend.’ He twinkles at me in the hope of getting me to change my mind. But I’m too wound up to go out and relax in some wine bar with all Matt’s attention focused on me. To pretend that everything’s okay, when my brain is racing with things I can’t speak to him about.

‘Sorry. I’m just not up to it tonight.’

‘Okay. Maybe I’ll call Stu and Mike.’

‘Good idea.’

‘I’ll have to cancel Mum. She was excited about coming over.’

‘Is Gran coming round?’ Charlie asks.

‘Not tonight,’ I reply.

He huffs and pulls a disappointed face.

‘Can she come round anyway?’ Jess asks. ‘Even though you’re not going out.’

‘Not tonight. Let’s ask her over at the weekend.’ I drain the pasta and blink as the steam rises into my face.

Matt’s mum, Stella, is a lovely woman. She adores her family – myself included, even though Matt and I aren’t married. She and Matt are really close, and I guess you could say that Matt is a bit of a mummy’s boy. But that’s uncharitable of me; her husband Doug died a couple of years ago, so Matt’s just looking out for her. She keeps herself busy though, and has an active social life – dance classes, art club, the WI – Stella does it all. Everyone knows her and everyone loves her. Her family – she’s one of four sisters, all with children – have lived in Wareham for several generations so she’s a real part of the community. I’m lucky to have been accepted into such a warm environment. And it’s great for the kids, who love their gran.

We take our bowls of pasta through to the dining room and eat all together for a change. Matt sits and eats, interrupted periodically by texts from his friends as he arranges their evening out. Normally, we wouldn’t have phones at the dinner table, but because I turned down Matt’s invitation, I don’t say anything. The kids point out the unfairness of it and Matt finally puts his phone down, but his attention isn’t on us any more. He bolts his food and then goes up to get ready while I sort out the children’s bedtime.