‘This is Nick,’ I said, ushering her into the living room.

She gazed at him keenly. ‘Hello. Nora.’

‘Our new neighbour!’ Nick moved clumsily to take her hand. ‘Um . . . can I take your . . . ?’ He gestured for her coat, a waxed Barbour, and they sort of got tangled up together. I closed my eyes briefly at the awkwardness.

‘Do sit down.’ I lunged forward. ‘There’s olives . . . crisps . . . eh, and dinner will be ready soon.’

‘Thank you.’ She didn’t sit. ‘These are for you. I thought you wouldn’t be drinking, so perhaps alcohol wouldn’t be right.’ It was a punnet of apples, small and sweet and fresh, water still clinging to them.

I saw Nick nodding, pleased. When I’d first told him I was pregnant, shaking with guilt, terrified he would add up the dates and know the truth, he’d put Operation Baby into action. Immediately I was banned from any alcohol, even a sip. ‘But surely I could have a bit,’ I’d said weakly, watching him pour an open bottle of wine down the sink.

Nick had slammed the bottle into the recycling bin with what for him was a lot of force. ‘Would you feed it a glass of wine when it was born? Everything you drink goes right into the baby. You ought to know that.’ Not only booze but also fish, seafood, nuts, caffeine, soft cheese and plastics were on the banned list.

I took the apples. ‘How lovely! From your garden?’

‘I found them when I moved in. Creeping up between the stones of the wall.’ Nora gave an odd, stiff smile as she lowered herself to the sofa. ‘Thank you for inviting me.’

‘Not at all. You just moved in?’ Nick sat down opposite Nora as I poured wine, looking longingly at the silky red liquid.

‘Yes, I lost my husband recently.’ She said that with a strange intonation, as if he had simply disappeared down the back of the sofa and might turn up again.

‘I’m so sorry.’ Nick lowered his voice respectfully.

‘And how long have you two been married?’ She looked between us, her keen gaze like a searchlight.

‘Oh – about three years, is it, love?’ I smiled at him. We were good at doing what happy couples did. Maybe no one was really happy. Maybe everyone was just copying it off TV and films.

‘Three years in March.’

Nora said, ‘And you’re expecting. How lovely. People used to rush right in, of course, but it’s nice to wait for a few years, isn’t it?’

‘Er . . . yes.’ Nick filled my silence. ‘We’re very excited. It’s the first grandchild for both our families, so it’s very . . . exciting.’ I wanted to scream at him to find a different word.

‘A boy or a girl?’

He looked at me quickly – Who is this woman? Why have you put me through this? – ‘We don’t know. We asked them not to tell us.’