‘I don’t . . . I don’t know if you’re joking?’ There was a flutter in her chest of something that felt a lot like panic. All traces of fatigue disappeared and her mind was wired, on high alert, as if she knew she needed to take in every detail, make a case, or at the very least respond. The end of the road? She swallowed the temptation to say, Don’t be so ridiculous!

‘I think you do know.’ He held her gaze and for the first time in their entire marriage she felt self-conscious, closing her blouse at the neck and wishing she’d left her shoes on. Shoes gave any situation a certain formality that might have helped keep her emotions at bay, plus when you were wearing shoes it was easier to bolt, should the need arise.

‘Are you being serious right now?’ The concept was too preposterous. They were a long-standing couple of nearly three decades. What was it Daniel had said? ‘It’s hard to think of one of you without the other!’ Mario and Bess. Bess and Mario. The Talbots. Three decades meant they had made it, got over the teething problems, most of life’s hurdles, and had come out the other side, and now they had a whole new chapter ahead of them, as grandparents. The road ahead was clear and filled with love: a new beginning, not an ending!

He nodded, his eyes fixed, his jaw tense.

‘I don’t know what to say . . .’ There was a loud and uncomfortable silence. ‘Where has this come from all of a sudden?’ She felt a little dizzy.

Mario rubbed his hand over his face and sat back in the chair with his arms hanging by his sides and his legs splayed, like a middle-aged rag doll that had lost every ounce of energy in its body. ‘It’s not all of a sudden,’ he said. ‘It’s just taken me a while to find the right moment.’

‘And today, my birthday, that’s the right moment? When we have just waved off our son, who is about to become a father, and we have raised a glass of plonk to toast this new phase in our life? Now is the right moment?’ Anger edged her words, rooted in naked fear.

‘Yes.’

‘And when you say it’s taken you a while, Mario, how long are we talking? How long have you had this thought rattling around in your head and the words on your tongue, waiting?’

‘Three years.’

‘Three years?’ Her voice was high and unnatural. She hadn’t expected something so specific. Mentally she quickly scanned three Christmases, three summers, three of Natalie’s birthdays, three of Jake’s. Their silver wedding anniversary. Jake and Dan’s wedding. One week in a rainy caravan. Countless Saturday nights in front of the TV . . .

He nodded.