When we got married, Claudia had given me a comedy book called Instructions for Wives. It was from the fifties. It said things like, before he comes in, make sure you look fresh and pretty, tidy round the house and so on. It was one of those ironic ‘look how far we’ve come’ gifts. Some days, as I sat clock-watching and worrying if my stew with venison would be OK, I wondered how much of a joke it was, really.

When I served the lasagne, Nick put a forkful in his mouth and made a face. ‘Is this the recipe I left?’

‘Sort of. I modified it.’

‘It’s a bit too salty. Not good for the baby.’ He regarded me with a kind of exasperation, like an under-performing employee. The baby, who already dictated our lives, was only the size of a butternut squash. But I wouldn’t say that. I’d back down, because there were too many landmines around me and I was trapped. And he was right. He had done all this for me, so much, and look how I’d repaid him. The sting of guilt was like salt in a wound. ‘I bet you didn’t walk Poppet today either, did you?’

How did he know? It was true that, after my meeting with Nora, I’d just given the dog a quick run up and down the road, not the hour Nick insisted on. ‘I lost track of time, after all the excitement. I didn’t feel up to it.’

‘You’re supposed to walk every day, Suzi. Never mind that you need it – the doctor said you shouldn’t gain weight till the last trimester – but what about poor Poppet? It isn’t fair otherwise.’

I hadn’t even wanted bloody Poppet – another little surprise after the move – and here I was responsible for his entire well-being. ‘OK.’ I felt tears wobble in my voice. Thinking: How did I get here? Who am I? Who is this man? Amazing to think that only weeks ago I was sure I’d have left all this behind me. ‘Anyway, I’ve invited her for dinner. The neighbour. Her husband’s dead.’ To my horror, when I said this, there was a catch in my throat, like when I’d spoken to Nora.

I tried to hide it but Nick was looking up from his phone, frowning. ‘What’s wrong?’ He couldn’t suspect. He might have already noticed my strange emotions, how red my eyes were when he got home. For a moment, terror ran through me like electricity. ‘Well?’ The one syllable seemed to ask so much. Tell me the truth, Suzi. Tell me what’s going on.

Did he know?

I stammered, ‘N-nothing. Hormones.’ I should have said something like I imagined it was you and it upset me, but I couldn’t bring myself to.