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that Dan would give me my happy ever after, and it was just a stupid teenage crush that I took way too far, and . . .” She looks at Maeve with a pleading expression in her eyes. “And I'm married, for fuck's sake. I'm not supposed to be having crushes. What the fuck is that all about?”

“How the fuck do I know?” Maeve shrugs, and they both laugh.

“I thought about it for hours that night,” Sam says wearily. “And you know, when I got married to Chris, I thought I'd never ever look at another man again. And I didn't. For six years I haven't been the slightest bit interested. But I suppose I felt so fat and unattractive, and dull, and Dan seemed to be interested in me, and the fact that anyone could be interested in me went straight to my head, and I blew it up out of all proportion.”

“Plus,” Maeve adds gently, “being married, or, as in my case, having a live-in partner, doesn't mean you stop fancying people.”

“Really? You mean you fancy people too? Even though you've got Mark?”

“Not all the time, but I've certainly entertained the odd fantasy. It's about choice, though, isn't it? Weighing up what I've got and what I stand to lose. I never thought I'd choose a partner and a child over wild sex and wicked men, but now that I've got Mark and Poppy, I wouldn't let anything jeopardize that.”

Sam nods thoughtfully. “You're right. I only realized it that night. It took Dan to make me really appreciate what I have. You're so right. I should have left it as a fantasy instead of blowing it up into a potential reality.”

“You couldn't help it. He led you on. You were feeling shitty about yourself and he preyed on that.”

“He did, didn't he?”

“Yeah. The fucker really did.”

Sam sighs. “I've been so stupid.”

“So what about Chris, then? Now's probably not the best time to say this but I thought he was lovely.”

“He is lovely.” Sam smiles. “I think I'd forgotten how lovely he is until about four-thirty Monday morning. Oh God.” She makes a face. “I think Julia was right.”

“Right about what?”

“She said a while ago that she thought maybe I was suffering from postpartum depression, and even though I don't think I've had it badly, I swear to God I've felt as if I've been living in a fog for the last few months. I hated my life, I hated my marriage, I hated Chris. The only thing I didn't hate was George, he was the only good and perfect thing, but I was convinced my marriage was over, that everything would be fine if I wasn't with Chris.”

“And that's changed now?”

“I feel as if I've turned a corner. That huge humiliation”—she shudders again at the memory—“well. It made me question everything. I suppose it's exactly as you just described, but in my case it wasn't weighing up what I stood to lose, it was reassessing and realizing how thankful and grateful I should be.”

“You managed to switch the hatred off overnight?” Maeve is slightly incredulous but curious nonetheless. Sam does appear to have a glow that Maeve has never seen before.

“I know. It sounds crazy. But it's as if it's all gone. All that resentment. That anger toward Chris. It wasn't about Chris, it was about me, and I'm not even sure it was about me. Actually I think it was probably chemical. And maybe it hasn't gone away, maybe this is just a temporary reprieve, but it feels so good to love Chris again, to wake up in the morning and feel happy, positive.”

“I never realized,” Maeve says. “I wish you'd told me.”

“I didn't tell anyone. I didn't know. It went on for so long it felt normal. I forgot that life could be different.”

Maeve grins. “So if truth be told, you have to thank Dan for patching up your marriage and restoring you to sanity. If I were you I'd send him a card. Hell, why not flowers?”

“Fuck off,” Sam laughs.

“Fuck off yourself,” Maeve shoots back, placing her hands over Poppy's ears. “And do you mind not swearing in front of the children?”

Chris has got his wife back. His life back. He comes home now to find a smiling Sam, the Sam he always loved. She's attentive, affectionate, glowing, and this time he knows it's not because of anyone outside their marriage.

Unless of course you count Maeve. Maeve, who has filled Julia's shoes in more ways