She was not the woman he fell for. A long time ago, at their wedding, he had described her as indomitable.

But she had never before desired and failed. Not openly. She had desired and pretended otherwise. She had feigned contentment with things fleeting, and steered her course away from the solidity she could not have. Only now they had said it to each other, out loud: they wanted a baby. And in voicing it, as though to mock her flat stomach, the longing inside her had swollen. It had made her yearn with a deepness that churned her chest to pieces and ruffled her exterior. She felt anxious where she was once fearless. She felt weak where she should be bold. She felt needy where she had been so independent. Because for a baby, she needed George. And in needing him, she had become repulsive.

George was not asleep. They had put down their Kindles and switched off the lights, delighting in the feat of the integrated lighting system working exactly as they had planned it, and now they were lying in darkness. Both were aware that this moment was an overt First that ought to be marked with a christening – their first night in their new bed in their new home. But he was facing the wall away from her. And she was doing likewise. Besides, it was still at least four days until she would be ovulating. Veronica allowed the darkness to sink through her, heavy and enveloping. There was a sliver of light creeping through the very edges of the curtain from the lampposts outside, and every now and then there was a clip-clopping of heels, or a slow car pulling respectfully to park, but otherwise the carefully crafted tranquillity of the room was undisturbed.

Despite the acres of fields that had surrounded her boarding house, it was never as quiet as this. Aged twelve, she’d arrived late – during the autumn term of the second year when everybody else had begun a full three terms earlier. The decision had not been hers. Due to the demands of her father’s job, her parents were relocating to Oman, and her options, if they could be described as such, were to attend the international school there, which itself was weekly boarding, or to board full-time in the UK. She chose the latter, though even as she was doing so she was aware that it was not really from want. Mainly, it was because of her parents’ indifference to the outcome, an indifference that drove her to the much further afield, screw-you-if-that’s-how-little-you-care option, and passed unnoticed.

At night, four to a dorm, she would listen to the sounds of pattering footsteps transgressing between rooms, the bell from the great clock three floors below them, the clattering about in the kitchens an hour before they had to rise, the owls, the crickets, the rumbling of distant trains, and the constant flushing of toilets. Compared to this, rowdy university halls had been nothing. City living had been a doddle. And now, the gentle noises of their new abode were positively serene.