My breasts were engorged and sore, and I felt the sudden wetness of milk leaking through my top. I looked at him and instantly burst into tears, burying my face in his chest. It was all too much.

He laughed, but not unkindly. ‘I think you could probably do with a few hours’ sleep. Try and give Elodie a little feed now and then go and have a nap. I’ll take care of her for a while – I can bring her up to you if she needs feeding again. Things will feel a whole lot better when you’re not so knackered.’

Mrs Barley, having heard his words, turned towards us with a knowing smile.

‘A good rest can work wonders,’ she agreed. ‘And don’t you worry, either of you. I’ll always be here to share the load.’

CHAPTER 13

Jack’s parents had announced that they were coming to visit us the following Friday. We rarely saw them as, after retiring from farming, they’d bought a flat in Spain and spent the majority of the year enjoying sunnier climes. But the lure of meeting their new granddaughter had brought them over to England for a couple of weeks. They had already arrived in the UK and were staying at their old farm near the village of Enville, in Staffordshire, with Jack’s brother, Matt, and his family, some forty miles away. Old habits dying hard, Jack’s dad had been helping out with the cattle, but they were planning on staying the one night with us after coming for dinner, as he didn’t want to drive back to Enville in the dark.

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.’