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to All Bar One in Highgate for lunch. Puttering around the village, they'd usually find things to buy in the afternoon: books; furniture; food. Often Julia and Mark would be with them, and however badly Julia and Mark might have been getting on, the four of them always worked. They'd all known one another for so long they were like family. Anything could be said, no censoring was permitted.

With a pang Sam realizes how much she misses Julia. When Julia phoned to say she was staying in New York, all those months ago, Julia was so full of excitement and vigor, so like the Julia that Sam used to know, hadn't seen for so many years, Sam couldn't admit how upset she was, how hard her life would be without Julia.

But even she could never have envisaged quite how much her life would change with George.

“Tell you what.” Chris comes back in the kitchen and reaches for the paper. “I'll give George breakfast, you can sleep in, and when your mother's collected George I'll come back to bed for some more sleep.” He grins. “Or something, and then we'll play the rest of the day by ear.”

“God,” sighs Sam. “A lie-in. Are you sure?” I'm not getting up, she decides. I'm not going to come down to the kitchen to make sure Chris is doing it properly. To make sure George is getting enough to eat. Bugger that. I'm going to sleep, and if George decides to be fussy with his food tomorrow morning then that's Chris's problem. Not mine.

“You need to sleep, love.” The prospect of sex tomorrow morning, plus a day spent on their own, has lifted Chris's spirits. He suddenly feels both loving and loved.

“What is that smell, anyway? What are you making for dinner?”

“Oh that? That's a fish pie.”

“Mmmm. God, I haven't had that for years. It reminds me of my childhood. Have you got peas too?”

Sam makes a worried face. “Chris, it's not for you, it's for George. I mean, you can have it if you like, but it's pureed.”

Chris's heart, on a cloud but a few seconds before, starts to sink. “Oh. So what are we having?”

“Umm.” Sam thinks hard. “There's spinach and potato bake, or cauliflower cheese, or chicken casserole.”

“And are they all pureed?”

Sam shrugs apologetically. “There's always a takeaway curry.”

“Again?”

“I could eat curry every night of the week,” Sam states defensively, which isn't quite true, but given that this will be the third night this week they've ordered it, it might as well be. “Did you get the ice-cube trays?” Sam unclips the Magimix and gets ready to scoop as Chris goes to the hallway and brings in a plastic bag.

“Will six be enough?”

“Should be. Thanks, darling.” And she blows him a kiss as she starts to drop the fish-pie puree, teaspoonful by teaspoonful, into the trays.

Sam wakes to the sound of George screaming. Somewhere she had read that a baby who wakes up smiling is a secure baby, and although there is no reason whatsoever for George to be insecure, she cannot avoid this nagging doubt when he wakes up crying, which he so often does.

Just hungry, she tells herself, rolling over as she hears Chris sigh and climb out of bed.

“Turn the monitor off,” she hisses as he's about to close the bedroom door, knowing that she'll never be able to get back to sleep if she hears George cry for much longer.

She reaches for the earplugs and jams them in, thankful for the instant peace, for although Chris has taken the monitor, the walls of this small terraced house are thin, and George's faint cries are still audible.

Lying in bed, she can already feel her body start to wake up. I will not, she wills herself. I will go back to sleep. Every bone in her body is exhausted, and she tries thinking about beaches, soothing turquoise water, hot white sand and gently rocking hammocks, but each time she does she finds herself, within a few seconds, thinking about George.

She lies there, gradually waking with each thought. I hope he's eating enough, she thinks. Did I tell Chris he can have one of the baby yogurts in the fridge? What if he's being picky and Chris thinks he's had enough, when I know he hasn't and you just have to persevere?

At twenty-eight minutes past seven she realizes there's absolutely no point in staying in bed. Now fully awake, there isn't a hope in hell of her going back to