A pretty, curvaceous young woman with long bleached blonde hair and heavy make-up brought us our food, smiling a little too flirtatiously at Jack. I was used to noticing girls furtively giving him admiring glances, and rather than feeling smug, it always unsettled me. I was full of self-doubt and always worried deep down that he was too good for me. Ever modest, I don’t think Jack had any real concept of his own appeal to the opposite sex. He seemed oblivious to the effect he often had on women, which I found simultaneously endearing and frustrating.

Before we had moved to Avoncote, one of the veterinary nurses at his former practice had been overly attentive and started bombarding him with texts that weren’t work-related. Although in my heart I knew that she wasn’t a threat, it had caused arguments between us. It was exasperating that, initially at least, he didn’t appear to have realised that she was coming on to him, nor that I might find it unacceptable. Thankfully the situation was resolved when the girl eventually left abruptly and moved away. I didn’t find out why she had gone, but it was an enormous relief that she had stopped pestering him.

In my current state I felt more insecure than ever, and decidedly unattractive. I glared at the waitress as she sashayed away from the table.

‘You could write your name in that foundation,’ I commented, cringing as I realised how bitchy it must have sounded.

‘Mee-oow.’ Jack grinned. ‘You don’t need make-up.’ His expression suddenly serious, he cocked his head to one side and stared at me. He reached out to touch my face. ‘A natural beauty.’

I felt a warm glow, but threw my napkin at him. ‘Ooh, you’re such a smoothie. Eat your fajitas.’

I was glad that he had agreed to dine out. As the evening wore on, he became more relaxed and I was hoping that the unfortunate Labrador incident had been forgotten, for the time being at least. The pub had filled up even more, and the hum of conversation and the jukebox playing mellow songs from the Sixties and Seventies made for a pleasant atmosphere. We still attracted the odd inquisitive glance from some of the locals, but the novelty of our presence seemed to have worn off after a while and most people were friendly, nodding and smiling when we caught them looking in our direction. It felt as though we were gradually easing our way in.

‘How was your day?’ asked Jack, taking a huge bite of his tortilla.

‘I’ve been working this afternoon, but earlier I met a girl from the village, Lucy. She came round with her little boy this morning – he’s a sweet little thing. I gave her some of those olives Nick ordered me in at the shop.’

‘Oh yeah? What’s she like?’

‘She seems okay. She’s expecting, too – due before me, though.’