‘Wow,’ he laughs, as though he finds my behaviour amusing. We both know that had it been the other way around and he’d been the drunken one provisionally booking time away with mates then I’d have a little more to say about the matter. That said, our roles within the house are so different. He’s always away anyway.

‘I think it’ll be good for me to … have some time,’ I say, wanting to confide in him properly about how I’ve been feeling lately, yet knowing now might not be the right time with the kids around and when we’re in the middle of the morning mayhem.

‘And it will be,’ he says, flashing me a smile before grabbing the toast out of the toaster just as it’s the perfect shade of brown. He butters it, adds a smidge of Marmite and hands it to Chloe before giving her a kiss on the head. ‘Be good for Mummy today, she has a sore head.’

‘Did she bash it?’ she asks, eyeing me suspiciously.

‘Something like that,’ I nod, grimacing at Nick.

‘Bye, sausage,’ he says, pulling Barnaby in for a squeeze before heading to me and grabbing both of my arms. ‘I honestly think it’s a wonderful idea.’

He gives me a quick kiss on the lips, so quick it hardly even counts as a kiss, and he’s in the hallway grabbing his bag and coat, ready to make a swift exit.

As the door closes behind him I find myself feeling overwhelmingly sad at his reaction. Maybe it’s the hangover, but I just would’ve liked him to wonder how he’s going to manage without me for ten whole days, even with the help of our parents. Or am I so undervalued and unseen here that he has no idea what I undertake on a day-to-day basis?

Before I can stew on the feelings further, I catch sight of the time and start whizzing around to locate coats, shoes and Barnaby’s lunchbox – firmly deciding that I will be treating Chloe to an all-you-can-eat Pizza Hut lunch.

Mike

On waking up, before I even open my eyes, a glimmer of excitement flutters within me.

There is something ahead of me. Not the future I wanted or hoped for, but plans. For the first time in months, instead of the dread that has embedded itself into every fibre of my being, there is something else. Optimism. Hope. Chance.

Zaza

I wake to an empty bed, but unlike yesterday morning I’m not greeted with the smell of pancakes wafting up the stairs. Instead I can hear the sound of Liam joining in with a Peloton session downstairs, the teacher barking out encouragement and Liam grunting back.