I hate it when Jake and I fall out. It doesn’t happen very often—no more so than with most couples—but it still unsettles me. Catching sight of myself in the mirror, I give my body a critical scan. I have a good figure—slim, lithe—almost athletic in a minuscule way—which must be down to genetics rather than hard work in the gym, because much as I like to kid myself I don’t really do anywhere near enough exercise. I run my hands over my belly—which is flat. Enviably flat I would think. It does sometimes seem like madness that I can’t wait for it to be swollen with our child. I stick my tummy out, but no matter how far I force it, I really can’t make myself look remotely pregnant. Perhaps once I am, we can put all this unpleasantness and petty bickering behind us and become a couple again. I’m sure when all technicalities are done, Jake will be thrilled to be a father. I pat my tummy—not long now, I hope.

I lower myself into the steaming, scented bubbles, and the wondrous, healing power of plain old water never ceases to amaze me. We have one of these long, claw-foot baths that is the perfect shape for lounging. I can feel the stress floating away and lie back, submerging myself as deeply as I can. I close my eyes and drift off.

As I do, the phone rings and I pick up the handset.

‘Hi.’ It’s Jake. On his mobile. I can feel my face soften and I smile down the phone at him.

‘Hi.’ I wriggle up a bit in the bath, so that I don’t dunk the phone. It wouldn’t be the first time. ‘Are you feeling okay now?’

Jake doesn’t answer.

‘Look, I’m sorry about this morning,’ I continue. ‘It’s tough. Tough on both of us. We need to take time out. I’ve got some fizz in the fridge. I’ll make us a nice supper. We can cuddle up and watch some crap on telly.’

I hear Jake sigh. He’s clearly still mad.

‘Where are you?’ I realise I can’t hear the noise of the train clattering in the background, so he’s not on his way home yet. He’s been working late on Friday night for weeks and I’d sort of hoped tonight would be different. ‘When will you be home?’

‘Lyssa…’ Jake sounds a long way away. ‘I’m not coming home. I told you.’

The bathwater suddenly seems a lot colder. ‘I know…but I thought…I thought you might have changed your mind.’

‘Why? Why did you think that?’

‘Well…things are different. I know how you feel. I wanted to call you all day. I understand. And we can have a break from the IVF. Six months. More, if you like…’