I was anxious that the cottage was a mess, since I hadn’t the energy for housework, nor was I physically able, as with the aftermath of the C-section I was weak and sore, and my movement restricted. I didn’t like to ask Jack to start cleaning, since he’d been working longer and longer hours right up to Elodie’s birth and was still having to pop in to the surgery now and again, despite being on paternity leave. I had wanted this to be quality time for the three of us, but everything seemed to be piling up. The fact that his parents’ arrival was imminent was causing me real stress. Jack, however, was annoyingly flippant about the state of the house.

‘It’s fine, they won’t care if it’s a bit untidy. It’s not like we’re living in a hovel. They’re coming to see Elodie – and us, of course – not to pass judgement on our domestic skills. After all, they lived on a bloody farm – they’re used to muck.’

But I had my pride and I was worried. I didn’t want anyone, particularly Jack’s mother, Sylvia, whom I wasn’t entirely sure liked me, thinking that I was inadequate in any way, or not coping. His father, Harry, was laid-back and easy to please and we got on well. She, on the other hand, seemed rather more judgemental. She had always been perfectly pleasant, but on the few occasions that I’d been in her company over the years, there were odd moments when I had caught her looking at me in a slightly hostile way that made me uncomfortable. I suspected she thought Jack could have done better for himself.

Mrs Barley called round the morning before the visit. It was 9.30 a.m. – Elodie had finally gone to sleep, but I was exhausted after walking her up and down in the night and was on the verge of tears, as I so often seemed to be at that time. The sleeplessness and the discomfort after the birth were getting me down and I could really have done without the in-laws descending on us. Apart from everything else, I felt like a physical wreck. I had begun to dread every feed, which – cracked, painful nipples aside – induced unpleasant cramping in my stomach. I needed a bath and hadn’t washed my hair for days. Lack of sleep had left my eyes sunken and my skin sallow. It was as though I had aged about ten years overnight. I hated the sight of my ugly scar and my stomach looked like a wrinkly, deflated balloon. I wondered if I would ever regain my figure, and worried that Jack would never find me attractive again.