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and surely he cannot be a good father or she would not step in and remove George at every opportunity.

He had thought, for a while, that this was normal. That this happened to all new parents once they had brought the baby home. He had excused it on the grounds of hormones. Ironic only because everyone had said how lucky he was that Sam had had such a lovely pregnancy, had been so happy, and blooming, and in love with life.

He had thought perhaps that he was paying for that now, but still he had known it would pass.

“For God's sake, Chris. The diaper's much too loose,” Sam would say witheringly as she elbowed him out of the way and stepped up to the changing table to redo, amid much sighing, his handiwork.

“For God's sake, Chris, the water's much too hot.” Sam would elbow him out of the way in the kitchen, plunging the bottle into the freezer amid much sighing.

He had mutely moved out of the way, leaving the room after assuming he was more of a hindrance than a help, and then, a few minutes later, while reading the papers in the living room, would be subjected to Sam shouting that he never did anything to help.

And it was getting worse.

Not the shouting. That, if anything, had subsided somewhat, but the atmosphere in the house was thick with acrimony and resentment. The more time Chris spent at home these days, the worse he felt.

Most of the time he lived his life under a cloud of sadness. He looked at Sam and couldn't understand what had happened to her. To them. He looked at George, at this wonderful, miraculous creature, and knew that their shared delight in his presence, in every move he made, should have been drawing them closer together, not pushing them further apart.

The only place he can still breathe freely, still relax, is in his workshop, and as for the bonuses of his newfound workaholism—the magazine interest, the increased orders, the nonstop phone calls—quite frankly that's something he could well do without.

“Hello, love.” Chris manages to fill his voice with warmth as Jill Marsh, an old and favorite client, smiles encouragingly across the desk at him. “We've all been invited to Jill and Dan's for tea next Sunday. Lily's only a few months older than George, and Jill thought the babies could play and we could see the dining table in its proper home.”

Sam has never met Jill Marsh, has only heard about her from Chris. She knows they are roughly the same age, but that Jill lives very happily off her husband's income (something big in journalism). She knows that Jill dabbles in interior design when she feels guilty about not working, and lives in Highgate in a Gothic house that has been regularly featured in Homes and Gardens.

She also knows that Chris and Jill have always been friends. Jill likes to tell people that she discovered Chris, a statement ruined only by the fact that Chris is nowhere near where he could be had he not sacrificed his career for his family. But Jill has been more influential than most of his other clients put together, and he has Jill to thank for many of the more recent commissions.

Jill has always wanted to meet Sam. Sam has always wanted to meet Jill, but somehow something always got in the way, and when their pregnancies overlapped, Chris had passed messages between the two of them, offering advice and anecdotes.

Once they had even spoken on the phone, and Sam had known that she would like Jill, that they had the potential to be friends. It was just before Sam was due, and Jill had laughed and said there was no point putting anything in the diary for months, but that Sam should call when they were up to socializing and they would get together.

Seven and a half months on and Sam still isn't ready for socializing, but Chris is. Anything to inject some normality back into their relationship, to recapture something of their life of old.

Chris is only just starting to realize the effects of their baby-imposed isolation. He is only just starting to realize how destructive it is to spend every single night of the week watching television, then going to bed. How soul-destroying to spend every evening with a partner who doesn't appear to like you very much.

Chris misses having a social life. He misses being able to pop out to the cinema at