‘I loved being an only child,’ I say quietly, thinking of how close my mum and I were. True, it would have been easier having a sibling to help deal with things when she got sick and everything fell on my shoulders: going with her to all her appointments and dealing with all the aftercare every time she had chemotherapy. It would have been good too to have someone else to rely on when she died, and I had to organise the funeral while wrung out and torn up with grief.

I still regret how sad and pathetic an affair it turned out; not at all the wake she deserved. I was so upset though, and Liam didn’t know what to do, so we cobbled together a gathering in a local pub, and though a lot of people showed up I feel like I was too wrapped up in grief to really give her a good sendoff. Guilt descends on me and I try to push it away. Now’s not the time to go there.

‘I hated being an only child,’ Liam says. ‘It was awful. I think if I’d had a sibling it would have been easier,’ he tells me. ‘Anyway,’ he says brightly, brushing off my sympathetic smile. ‘We won’t be like that. We’ll have a boy and a girl.’ He pauses, thinking. ‘Maybe two girls.’

‘I don’t think you get to choose the gender,’ I laugh.

‘How long do you think you’ll want to wait?’ Liam asks with a small frown.

‘Kids are expensive,’ I say. ‘We should try to save up before we have them. And I’m not working. So maybe in three or four years?’

Liam looks at me in shock. ‘Three or four years? That’s far too long. If we wait until then you’ll be in your mid-thirties and the risks will be much higher. You’re in your prime right now.’ He pauses and looks at me. ‘And it’s not as if we haven’t been trying,’ he says. ‘I mean, we don’t use protection, so you could be pregnant already.’ His face lights up at the idea. ‘Imagine, a honeymoon baby.’