You did that to me, Tara.

You made me see that there is more than one great story.

TARA

I opened the last bottle of Prosecco in the house as I listened to Christian’s voice coming through the child monitor. A new story tonight. Somehow Marlon had broken his Call of the Wild addiction. And I realised how much I loved Christian’s voice – deep, calm, kind, the words coming out warm and honey-smooth, and in some secret chamber of my heart, I believed that hearing my husband reading to our son was perhaps my favourite thing in the world.

‘The pale light of the short sunless day was beginning to fade when a faint cry arose on the still air. It soared upward with a swift rush, till it reached its topmost note, where it persisted, palpitant and tense, and then slowly died away.’

‘What?’ Marlon said. ‘That bit before dying.’

‘Palpitant means – a bit shaky. The cry was a bit shaky. OK?’

‘OK.’

Christian continued. ‘It might have been a lost soul wailing,’ he read, ‘had it not been invested with a certain sad fierceness and hungry eagerness.’

I sipped the sweet Italian bubbles and enjoyed the reading. Then I poured myself another glass. My cunning plan was reconciliation sex. I had showered, shaved my legs and changed into a little black dress. I thought about a chemise but the little black dress was better, wasn’t it? More of an invitation and less of a command, a little black dress is always fun to pull up and pull down and take off. Christian would like all of that, he would like it very much, and one of the really good things about spending years with someone is that you know exactly what they like. Tonight my husband and I would start putting together the broken pieces of our marriage.

More nervous than I thought I would be, I took a long pull on my drink as I heard the familiar sounds of Marlon growing sleepy, of Christian thumbing the pages for a good place to stop for the night and finally Buddy being stirred from the end of Marlon’s bed and goodnight kisses all round.

I tried to look casual, I tried to make sitting there with a bottle and two chilled glasses and a black dress not quite covering my thighs look like the most natural thing in the world.

Christian came into the room, Buddy padding behind him.

‘New book?’ I said. ‘I’m impressed.’

Christian frowned at the red paperback in his hand, absent-mindedly shoving his specs further up the bridge of his nose. He looked at the Puffin more than he looked at his hot and willing wife.

‘His teacher gave it to him. It’s no great stretch. It’s all Jack London. It’s all wolf-dogs in the freezing Yukon and hairy-arsed trappers.’

I poured him a glass, feeling a little foolish as he flipped through the book. Frankly, I thought he would have his mouth on mine by now, and the little black dress up over my ass, or possibly down around my ankles. There was nothing but a thong like dental floss under there. Come on, Christian! Man up! But he plopped down with a sigh on the opposite sofa and stared at the dog, and I began to feel underdressed, over eager and unimaginably stupid.