‘Oh Nick.’ A sob tore out of me, and I put a hand over my mouth. ‘I . . . I can’t go on like this. Things are so bad, we never talk, you’re always mad at me . . . I’m sorry! I’m trying! I really am trying!’ The rest was lost in a garble of tears.

Nick hunkered down in front of me. ‘Hey, hey, it’s alright.’

‘It’s not alright! Things between us are so bad . . . I mean, aren’t they?’ Oh God, was it possible he hadn’t realised? That he thought we were happy?

He said nothing for a while, just peering into my face, concerned. ‘I know the move’s been hard on you.’

‘I’m so lonely, Nick. I feel so – having no job, no money, it really sucks.’ He opened his mouth, doubtless to say I did have money. ‘I know what’s yours is mine. But I have to ask you for it, don’t I? I can’t just pop out and get cash, and the car situation . . .’ More tears welled up, as I realised we were going over and over the same rows. Was that what the end of a marriage was like, being stuck in some Groundhog Day of misery?

‘I thought you’d be happy here,’ he said, standing up. ‘In London . . . I felt like I was losing you. You were always working, or out.’ Between us, the truth lay just beneath the surface, a treacherous river under a thin layer of ice. I could tell him. Nick, I had sex with Damian. I didn’t want to but – it happened. I’m sorry. Please, I’m so sorry.

But then how to explain the rest? Oh, and I had a second affair, and now the man was dead? He could count. He’d work out the baby likely wasn’t his. I couldn’t do it. I wiped a hand across my face. ‘I’m sorry I went out so much. I know it wasn’t fair on you. I – I want to be different. But please, Nick. You never touch me any more. You never look at me.’

He was nodding, slowly. ‘You seem so far away.’

‘I’m not, I’m right here.’

‘Are you saying you’re willing to try – you want things to be better between us?’

‘Of course I do.’

‘You know these things I do – worrying about where you go, what you eat – it’s just because I love you. You and the baby.’

I stood up too, and walked the few steps between us. Tentatively, I put my arms around him, feeling his solidity, the warmth radiating out from under his woolly jumper. Perhaps I had not touched him either in months. ‘I know. But please – don’t criticise me all the time. I will try harder, I promise.’