say, though truthfully, I’m not sure. He acts fine and understanding but of course he would because he’s a nice guy.
‘Be careful,’ Kate warns. ‘Look at Toby. We had a great sex life and he still played away.’
My knife and fork hover in mid-air. ‘What do you mean? Rob would never have an affair.’
‘I know,’ she says, ‘that’s not what I’m saying. I’m just warning you that if a man doesn’t get sex he’ll start to look elsewhere. Even the nice ones.’ She must see the look on my face as she hurries on. ‘But not Rob. I can’t imagine Rob ever having an affair. He adores you. And Marlow. I’m sorry. I’m just projecting.’
I put my cutlery down. ‘No, you’re right. It did cross my mind,’ I say. ‘But only because he seemed distant for a time when Marlow was a couple of months old. But we talked it out. He said he was feeling left out, you know, because I was breast-feeding and I got to be at home with the baby while he had to go to work. I think it’s quite common for men to feel like a spare part in the early days – that’s what the books say anyway. But everything’s been good since we talked. I mean, he tells me he loves me all the time and buys me flowers and when we do have sex it’s good. Well, good considering I don’t have much of a pelvic floor anymore.’
‘Well then—’ she laughs ‘—ignore me. What do I know about marriage or relationships? I’m a disaster at them. So long as you’re happy, that’s all that matters.’
I nod and look down at my plate, trying to blink away a sudden welling up of tears.
‘You are happy, aren’t you?’ Kate asks.
I look up, swallowing hard. She’s staring at me, her eyes narrowed. She knows me better than anyone and has seen through my stiff upper lip.
‘I don’t know,’ I blurt out. The wine has made my tongue loose and I think to myself I should probably not say anything but the words tumble out of me before I can stop them. ‘I know I should be happy. I’ve got an amazing husband and an amazing child and I’ve got so much to be grateful for but somehow I don’t feel happy. I feel quite down actually, quite a lot of the time.’
Much to my horror tears slip from my eyes. Why am I admitting all this? Kate stares at me, her blue eyes widening with surprise at this out-of-nowhere admission. Her cutlery clatters to her plate and she reaches across and grabs my hand. ‘Oh my God, why didn’t you tell me?’
I bite my lip to stop from crying any more. ‘I don’t know. I haven’t told anyone. I just keep pretending everything’s OK, hoping that if I fake it I’ll make it. But I feel so tired and I know I should be happy, so then I feel even worse.’
Kate looks stunned. ‘I can’t believe you didn’t tell me you’ve been feeling this way! I would have been there for you. Does Rob know?’
I shake my head. ‘No. He’s seen me cry a few times but he doesn’t understand it. He thinks it’s just hormones. Maybe it is.’
‘Do you think it’s postnatal depression?’ Kate asks.
My lip wobbles. It’s the first time someone has asked me directly whether or not I’m depressed other than the health visitor who I lied to because I was scared of being judged. ‘Maybe,’ I say, feeling like there’s a stone lodged in my throat.
‘Have you spoken to the doctor?’ she presses.
I shake my head. I keep thinking about going but then changing my mind. I’m not that sad, just a bit down. And I don’t want to take any drugs. I want to figure it out on my own. Like Rob says, I’m sure it will pass.
‘There’s no shame in it you know,’ Kate says, reading my mind. ‘Drugs can help.’
I nod. If anyone knows it’s Kate. She’s been on and off antidepressants for years.
‘Why don’t you make an appointment to see the doctor when you get back? Speak to someone. Get some help.’ She frowns at me in consternation. ‘I really wish you’d told me before now.’
I nod and with a shaky hand take a big gulp of wine. Having admitted it to Kate it already feels like a weight has lifted off my shoulders. She’s right. I should have admitted it to her before now. I