My sister’s kitchen can only be described as a work in progress. As is the rest of the house. I don’t think there’s one room that has its full quota of wallpaper. There’s always a pile of wood somewhere that’s in the process of being constructed. I read somewhere that children cause one thousand, five hundred pounds’ worth of damage to a home during their first five years of life. If you multiply that by six then it’s no wonder that Edie’s is always a bit of a building site. Her husband also has an unhealthy addiction to Do-It-Yourself. I think he just likes hitting things with a hammer. My sister cares not a jot for all this. She can happily lie on the sofa eating chocolates and watching Heartbeat, unconcerned by the fact that her cornices have been covered by nothing but B&Q own-brand undercoat for the last two years.

‘Cheap crap,’ Edie says as she puts a mug of something white in front of me. ‘Sorry. At least it’s cold.’

‘I’d probably drink bleach if that was all you had.’

‘That bad?’

I nod.

‘Jake’s left,’ she says flatly.

I’m shocked. ‘How do you know?’

‘Why else would you be here on a Saturday afternoon looking like your world had ended and carrying a fully laden overnight bag?’

I take a swig of the wine. She’s right. The wine and my life are both awful. Its saving grace is that the plonk is mind-numbingly cold and my mind could certainly do with a bit of numbing. I shudder as the acidic cut of the wine hits my stomach and shrivels my taste buds, but then I think everything would taste bitter to me at the moment. ‘He went yesterday,’ I admit. ‘One day on my own and I can’t cope.’

‘Has he got someone else?’

‘No.’ I pull a face. ‘He needs space. He’s had enough of the IVF programme. He’s had enough of me.’

‘Do you really believe there’s no one else?’

‘Yes.’

‘Men don’t usually leave cosy relationships unless they’ve found someone who wears ridiculously short skirts and stockings.’

‘Grief, Edie, he never has time for that. He spends every hour God sends at the office. And when he’s not at the office he’s knocking some sort of ball around or filling pots at the fertility clinic. Jake doesn’t have any spare time for another woman.’ I drink the wine quickly so that it tastes better. Edie kindly refills my mug. ‘It’s only for a few days. While he thinks. He said he’d be back. Maybe tomorrow.’

Edie snorts doubtfully and I must admit that I’m not entirely convinced either.

‘Don’t tell Mum,’ I beg.

‘What am I? Mad?’ Edie says.