Then I hear the sirens and I feel my husband pulling away from me, and there is a look on his gorgeous face that breaks my heart, because it shows that he really does not understand what I have brought to our little family’s door, and into our home, and into our good life.

The blue lights of the police cars fill the room.

And I know that they have come for me.

Wanting

10 DAYS AGO

1

Christian

‘Fancy a bottle of Prosecco?’ Tara said, smiling.

All married couples speak their own language and, in our home, this translated as – you up for a date night, big boy?

In the morning Tara was going away for three nights. One night in the air, two nights at a conference in Japan. We were not a family that was often apart and so the moment definitely demanded Prosecco.

‘I’ll chill two glasses in the freezer,’ I said.

Which translated as – A date night? You bet, beautiful.

Our home buzzed with excitement. An adventure was about to begin and Tara’s suitcase was packed but still open, a copy of The Rough Guide to Tokyo sitting on top of her clothes, as she stood in front of the full-length mirror in our bedroom, sheaths of scrawled notes in her hand, trying out her speech.

Marlon, our five-year-old boy, was in his pyjamas and up way past his bedtime, teaching the dog new tricks. Sort of.

‘Roll over,’ Marlon commanded, holding up a treat.

Buddy bobbed his head, grinning hopefully, that knowing Labrador grin, and slowly eased himself down onto his side.

‘Good boy,’ Marlon said, scratching Buddy behind the ears and slipping him the hard-earned treat. Our son lifted his face to us. ‘You have to watch, both of you.’

Buddy got up carefully.

‘We’re watching,’ Tara said.

‘Play dead,’ Marlon said, and Buddy gamely eased down onto his side again, keeping his head raised and his shining eyes on the treat.

‘I’m calling Simon Cowell about you two,’ Tara said, miming the telephone with her hand. ‘Hello, Mr Cowell? Simon?’

Marlon was wide-eyed at the game. ‘What does Simon say?’

Tara listened. ‘Wait a minute.’ She covered the mouthpiece of her invisible phone. ‘Simon says – I don’t like it … I love it!’

Then she stared at herself in the mirror, biting her lower lip.

I went to her and slipped my arm around her waist.

She shook her head and scrunched up her mouth. The notes for her speech hung by her side. Sometimes married couples don’t even need their secret language. ‘They’ll love you,’ I said. ‘They’ll go crazy for you. Don’t worry.’

Tara looked doubtful.

‘You made such a great speech at our wedding,’ I reminded her.

‘To a bunch of drunks who all quite like us. They don’t count. And I cried.’

‘Only a bit.’

‘Mama?’

‘Yes, angel?’

‘What does Simon say now?’

‘Simon says – it’s bedtime, kiddo!’