As she recalled, she’d picked it up reasonably quickly and was even called on to help colleagues who found the software difficult to master. But she said nothing to Derek. Perhaps she was wrong. Maybe she had battled with it initially and had said as much to him. It was a long time ago. Motherhood must have dulled her memory.

Most of all though, Faye feared that no one would employ her after her prolonged absence from the workplace. They’d judge her for staying away so long and find her wanting. Derek didn’t try to dispel her self-doubts. Neither did he suggest that she look for employment in another field, one she might find less daunting. In fact, he didn’t expend any time or energy at all encouraging her or trying to persuade her to change her mind. To the contrary, he quickly convinced her that staying at home was the right decision.

“It’s okay, actually, you not working. Don’t worry about it,” he said at dinner one evening. “I made a spreadsheet to calculate how much you’d have to earn, after tax, to cover a housekeeper, au pair and additional costs for things like commuting, car maintenance and work outfits. Given that you’d probably work on commission and it would take you several months to build up a client base and truly start selling, it works out better if you stay at home.”

Faye didn’t ask for further explanation. Neither did she point out how much effort went into looking after a home and family. She was relieved, but only briefly. It wasn’t just about the money. There was something about having a career that had completed her. She felt guilty at the thought, but being a mother wasn’t the same. Although she never complained about it, she was bored, particularly when Zach was at school. In addition, she realised that having made the decision not to contribute financially meant she had to account to Derek for every cent of “his” income she spent. It wasn’t that he was patently closefisted, but neither did he ever suggest it was unnecessary for her to itemise every purchase she made.

She’d thought about it often over the years, but only raised the idea of finding a job once more. Even then, it was just an oblique reference to the notion.

Zach was at high school and Faye had been co-opted to work on a fund-raising project for the school with several other parents, including Diane. One evening, after the committee had met to finalise details for an event, Diane and Faye walked together to the carpark.

“Have you ever thought of going into project management?” asked Diane.

Faye looked at her, amused. “No. Goodness. Why would I? I barely know what it is.”

“Google it,” said Diane, nudging her with her elbow. “You’re a natural. Honestly. And I think you’d enjoy it.”

“Really? Thanks—I think.”