I got on a plane to my mother’s hospital and my husband was eleven rows in front of me with my best friend. There was a note of hers in my handbag that she’d written on my fridge that morning.

And I said he would be fine.

There is one more thing from this year that I have not been able to put down anywhere.

In the May, Saskia took me away for two nights. Her idea, her booking, a spa place at Verrin that she paid for.

She said it was because I had been run down.

We were in a hot tub on the Saturday afternoon and she asked me whether Corin and I were all right.

And I said we were. I said he was away a lot but that after eighteen years you get a rhythm.

And Saskia Verrall said: “You’re lucky, you know.”

I have gone over that weekend about forty times since and I cannot work out what it was for.

My sister thinks it was guilt and that she was managing it.

I think it is simpler and worse, and I have only said it to one person. I think she wanted a weekend with her friend.