It’s been a strong marriage, a successful one. But David and Helen are struggling to see the opposing point of view.

She knew that if she reached out to touch him it would be all right. He would hug her, she would probably break down and cry with exhaustion. After, they would talk, apologise, she would get her glass of wine, they would both go to bed and hold each other before they slept. But something inside Helen, something screwed up and tight, stopped her reaching out to her husband.

‘I don’t think you’ve ever realised what my job’s like,’ she said. ‘I have to put in hours and hours to keep my head above water, and now there are the other schools I support, the travelling about, the conferences. There are so many things that need to be done thoroughly I can’t always delegate. It would have helped if you could have understood that a bit more.’

If he hadn’t been so tired, David could have lost his temper. To think she had brought herself to this through her own stubbornness, had carried on knowing it was hurting them, unable to give in and admit she was ill. She’d put her pride, her bloody-mindedness, her need to do it all single-mindedly or else lose face, before everything else that mattered.