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‘Yeah, I suppose.’ He wanted a drink. A very big, very strong one.

‘It’ll be the perfect setting to announce our good news to everyone. We’ll have a big party, and do a gender reveal reel, and then announce our engagement. I’m picturing lots of pink and blue balloons, and maybe a giant cake, or we can get the new Land Rover customised . . . that would be adorable. We could have one of those bright white ones, and have LEDs run underneath it that light up pink or blue to tell us if we’re having a baby Ricky or a baby Vetty. Wouldn’t that be adorable?’

His brain was slowly catching up. ‘Land Rover?’

‘Well, obviously we can’t keep the Lamborghini. That won’t be any good for a baby, and we’ll never get the iCandy and nanny in it.’

‘A nanny called Candy?’ He supposed it was good she’d found someone already. He was mentally running through his finances — a pounding headache and something else nagged at his brain.

‘No, silly. An iCandy stroller. They’re the best ones there are, and obviously our baby will have nothing but the best.’

‘Obviously,’ he agreed, not hearing her and still desperately trying to catch up. He was worried about Angela. She’d looked so pale and shaky. He needed to call her, to make sure she was OK, to let her know he still cared about her . . . To beg her to forgive yet another fuck-up he’d made as Maverick.

‘Ricky?’ The name was like nails on a chalkboard to him now. ‘Why is the living room floor squidgy?’

‘It’s for Mallow.’

‘What?’

‘The bird. My bird.’ He pointed to the cage where Mallow sat, unusually quiet, her head cocked to one side while she studied the new incomer.

‘You got a bird?’ Yvette tottered over to the cage, her ridiculously high heels sinking into the squidgy flooring. ‘Eww. It’s really ugly. Couldn’t you find a prettier one? Disgusting thing.’

‘She’s not ugly, don’t say that. She’s gorgeous, and special, and clever.’

‘If you say so.’

‘I do.’ The thing was still nagging at his brain, desperate for attention, but he couldn’t focus properly. All he could think about was the look on Angela’s face as Yvette dragged him away.

* * *

The last thing Angela wanted to do was respond to the knock at her door. It was the door to her private entrance, meaning it was someone she knew and not an animal needing help — and she really wasn’t in the mood for company. She’d finished off her unavoidable daily chores, trying not to think — but now she didn’t know what she was supposed to think. What were you supposed to think when your . . . what . . . boyfriend’s — she supposed — ex turned up pregnant by him? She didn’t know how to handle all the emotions twisting up her stomach, but she certainly didn’t feel like being friendly at the moment.

‘Ange?’ The knocking was louder this time. ‘It’s Mum.’

Great. One of the last people she wanted to see right now. She loved her mum, but the thought of having to deal with her right then, listening to her being all smug and right, was unbearable. For a few moments she contemplated ignoring her and doing what she really wanted: pulling a blanket over her head with Ruby, and possibly the tub of chocolate-brownie ice cream from the back of the freezer.

Her phone started to ring, and she pounced on it — hoping it was him, calling to explain. But it was just Mum. With a huge sigh she heaved herself off the sofa and limped over to the door. ‘Mum.’

‘Ange, sweetie, I had a few hours spare so I thought I’d drop by. I brought cake.’ She was in the kitchen, already filling the kettle before she looked properly at her. ‘Have you been crying? What happened? Did you lose the hedgehog babies?’

‘No, no, the hogs are fine.’ Angela rubbed at her eyes.

‘What is it then?’

She forced herself to take a deep breath. ‘Rick’s ex turned up.’

‘That dreadful blonde girl?’

‘Yeah.’ Angela nodded. ‘She’s back. And pregnant.’

‘Oh.’

‘And when she asked him, he left with her.’

‘Oh, sweetie.’

‘And if you’re about to turn around and tell me that “you told me so”, I swear I’m not going to be able to deal with it. I’m just not. So please, Mum, just don’t.’