A day or two later, as we walked home from nursery, I had the sense that we were being watched. You chatted away about a story the teacher had read but I only half-listened. I stopped, there in the bustle of the high street, and feigned interest in a powder-blue dress and jacket in a shop window. Beside me, you flattened the tip of your nose and your lips against the glass. A tall figure, a man in a cashmere coat, his hair neat, grew in the reflection as he came towards us. His shoes shone with polish.

I turned to greet Matt as he reached us.

‘Jen!’ He smiled down at me and, although I felt awkward, I found myself smiling back. ‘How are you?’ He crouched down to your level. ‘And this is Gracie? Wow! High five!’

He held up his hand and you slapped it.

‘I’m a doctor, Gracie. At the hospital. Do you remember when you were there? You were such a brave girl. I’ve got a present for you, if that’s OK with Mummy. To say well done.’

He opened his shoulder bag and pulled out a small chocolate bear, wrapped in gold foil.

‘A bear!’ You danced with excitement. I was conscious of living off my savings, so treats were rare.

He raised his eyes to me. ‘Is that OK?’

You looked from him to me, waiting for my decision. I nodded. What else could I do? You took it and ripped off the foil at once, stuffed it into your mouth.

‘What do you say?’

‘Thank you.’

‘You’re welcome.’

‘That’s very kind. Really.’

‘I always have a bear or two about my person.’ His eyes were bright and amused. ‘I’m so glad I caught you. I thought I saw you back there—’ he pointed vaguely back towards the river ‘—at the traffic lights. But I wasn’t certain.’

You tugged at my hand, feet still dancing. ‘I want to go home now.’

‘So how are things?’ His look, intense and concerned, reminded me of those wretched days in the hospital. Of his kindness. Of the food he bought me, the coffees and croissants, the curry.

‘I meant to call you. I’m sorry. To say thank you.’

‘No need.’ He broke into a grin. ‘I mean, no need for thanks. Not no need to call me.’

A woman with a double buggy powered past, filling the pavement and forcing us against the side of the shop.

‘Mummy!’ You began to fret at my side, pulling me. ‘Let’s go home.’

‘I should probably…’ I hesitated.

He must have sensed that you were restless but he didn’t take the cue to leave.

‘Do you live round here? I go to the dentist off the high street.’ He pointed. ‘Not exactly convenient but a friend of the family.’ He paused. ‘I was just going to get a coffee, actually. Don’t suppose—’

‘Mum-my!’ You twisted and tugged, getting cross now, pulling me away.

He looked at you, then back to me. ‘Don’t worry. Another time.’

‘Look, we only live round the corner.’ I didn’t really want to invite him but he looked so disappointed that it just came out. ‘Come for a coffee at our place, if you like?’

‘Really?’ His eyes lit up. ‘Well, only if you’re sure. I’m on lates today.’

I led the way across the high street and turned into our road. You ran ahead, racing to be first. By the time we got there, you were swinging backwards and forwards on the rusty gate.

I warmed some milk for you and left you to play, then went to put the kettle on. Matt leant back against the cupboards, large and solid in our small kitchen. He looked very much at ease, his expensive coat already draped over the back of a kitchen chair.

‘Nice place.’

‘Thanks.’ I turned my back to him and began to put the shopping away.

He peered through the connecting door to the sitting room where you were busy rummaging through your toys. ‘Been here a long time?’

‘Six or seven years. Richard chose it. He wanted a bit of garden.’ I shrugged, remembering. ‘And now, of course, it’s just Gracie and me.’

Matt broke into a grin. ‘I’m so pleased to see you. I’ve thought a lot about you, Jen. Wondered how you were.’

I didn’t answer. I turned my back to him, hiding my face, suddenly awkward. A mechanical tune rang out from the sitting room as you pressed buttons on a toy laptop. I concentrated on unpacking the shopping, wondering how long he planned to stay, whether I’d need to offer him lunch. He moved to the fridge and studied your drawings and paintings displayed there, bunched together with magnets.

‘Does she like drawing?’ He considered one closely. ‘She’s good.’

Your bear sat squarely in the middle of the kitchen table, propped against the fruit bowl from where he’d watched us eat breakfast. I moved him to the sideboard alongside placemats and colouring books and old shoeboxes of felt-tip pens, paintbrushes and crayons.

‘Have a seat.’

His physical presence dominated the space. He pulled out a chair and sat a little away from the edge of the table, his long legs crossed. He was wearing black jeans, a smart pair, with a jacket and tie. They suited him. When Richard wore jeans, he always looked as if he were trying too hard.

I finished tidying and reached for mugs. His eyes followed me as I moved.

‘It’s only instant coffee, I’m afraid. Or builder’s tea. Milk? Sugar?’

I made him a mug of tea and sat on the far side of the table, conscious of toast crumbs and traces of jam on the surface.

I had a clear view through to the sitting room where you’d settled on the settee with a book on your lap, your lips moving as you told yourself the story. I recognised the book from here. Beauty and the Beast. You couldn’t read; you just had it by heart.

‘So you’re doing OK?’ His voice was gentle.

His fingers, wrapped round one of Richard’s old mugs, were long and delicate. His chest was broad. He smelled fresh, a pungent scent of apples. It was so odd to see him sitting here, at the kitchen table. I didn’t really see friends nowadays, not since Richard left. It was just you and me. And in the evenings, just me.

‘Yep, think so.’ I nodded. ‘I’ve taken some time off work. They’ve been very good. Just until Gracie starts school in September.’

‘The days are long but the years are short.’ He smiled. ‘So what sort of work aren’t you doing?’

‘I run a training and development unit at a German investment bank. Not corporate training but personal development, one-on-one mostly.’

Richard always zoned out when I talked about work. I stopped bothering long ago. But Matt’s eyes stayed attentive.

‘It’s all about helping people work towards what they really want to do. It’s very rewarding. Well, most of the time.’

He considered. ‘Do people know what they want?’

‘That’s half the battle. Helping them find out. Then we break it down into steps and work out how to get there.’ I paused. I didn’t know why I was telling him all this. I didn’t really know why he was here at all. ‘It can mean leaving banking, for some people. And that’s OK too.’

I lifted my eyes, looked through to the sitting room. Your head was bent low over the story. I watched you for a moment and the sight of you, so engrossed, made me smile. I realised he was looking at me and turned. His eyes, on my face, were kind.

‘Gracie’s doing so well. I was frightened to death. You can imagine.’ I stopped. I still found it difficult to talk about without crying. ‘But she’s completely fine. Just as bright and lively as she always was.’ I nodded towards the open door. ‘Well, see for yourself.’

He kept his eyes on me. ‘And what about you?’

‘What about me?’

‘You’ve really been through it, haven’t you?’

I shrugged, then bit my lip.

‘I thought you were amazing.’ He lowered his voice. ‘What you did for her. The way you stayed there night and day. I was worried about you.’

I shifted my weight, feeling awkward.

‘Well, all over now. Thank God.’ I hesitated. I wasn’t used to sympathy. ‘Thanks.’

He changed the subject and started chatting about the book he was reading, a novel set in Peru or Bolivia or somewhere. I only half-listened. I studied my hands, thinking how engaged he seemed with the world and how isolated I’d become and wondering what he made of me. How had I turned into such a hermit – such a sad and lonely recluse that it felt like a major event to have someone round for a cup of tea?

Later, he said: ‘You and Gracie seem so close.’ He paused. ‘How long has it been just the two of you?’

I considered. ‘She wasn’t quite two when Richard left. Now she’s nearly four.’

‘What a fool.’

He said it with such quiet intensity that he caught me off guard. I lifted my tea and the rim of the cup juddered against my teeth.

‘That’s what I said.’ I tried to force a laugh. ‘Well, it’s one of many things I called him.’

He didn’t smile. He sipped his tea and the silence stretched.

‘Maybe I was the fool,’ I said at last. ‘I didn’t have a clue, you see. Turned out he’d been seeing this woman – the one who was driving that day. He’d been seeing her for years.’

It felt easier, somehow, to discuss it with a stranger. As if I were talking about something that happened to someone else. I’d spoken about it so little, in the last two years. There was no one really to tell. My mother wasn’t well enough to understand. Friends were busy with their own lives. Besides, there was only so much they wanted to hear.

He didn’t flinch, just said quietly: ‘Even before Gracie came along?’

‘Seems so.’ I swallowed, still feeling stupid. ‘I had no idea.’

I never had made sense of it. Not really. How could anyone not know their husband was having an affair? But it’s amazing what you don’t see. Richard often worked late. Always had. And besides, I trusted him.

‘I’m sorry.’ Simple but the most sensible thing anyone had said about the whole sad mess.

I shrugged. ‘Gracie wasn’t an easy baby. I was shattered all the time. I focused on her. He must have wondered what the hell he was hanging around for. I see that now.’

‘What did he expect? It’s hard, being a new parent. You just have to get on with it, don’t you?’

I thought about that for a moment. ‘Do you have children?’

He twisted to look out through the window, at the flagstones, rimmed with weeds and set round by overgrown bushes. Richard was the gardener, not me.

‘A daughter.’ He shrugged. ‘Her mother and I… well, let’s just say it’s a similar story. She moved on. Only in my case, she took our daughter with her.’

For a moment, he looked so hurt that I nearly reached out to touch his hand, the way he’d touched mine in the hospital. I turned and looked through to you, your head bent over your book, and tried to imagine Ella taking you away from me, after taking Richard. I’m not sure I’d survive that.

‘What’s your daughter’s name?’

‘Katy.’ He looked up at me again and smiled and I found myself smiling back.

‘Great name. Solid as a rock.’

‘It was my grandmother’s.’ He hesitated, his face suddenly shy. ‘Jenny’s lovely too.’

I studied my hands for a moment, then pushed back my chair and went to the sink to wash up my mug.

He got to his feet at once. ‘I’m intruding.’ He reached for his coat. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘Not at all.’

On the doorstep, he hesitated and turned back to me.

‘You’re doing so well,’ he said and nodded. It was a professional voice now, the doctor in him. It confused me, as if we’d just slipped seamlessly from friends to a home visit.

When I closed the door, I leaned against it for a moment and stood there in the quietness, trying to make sense of him and wondering what had just happened.

I went through to the kitchen, put bread in the toaster and rummaged in the fridge for lunch. As I stirred the pan of baked beans, you wandered through. You climbed onto a chair, reached for your bear and sat with it in your arms, watching me.

‘You hungry?’

You didn’t answer. I broke off a breadstick and gave it to you to eat while you waited.

‘Did you like that man? He’s a doctor. One of the doctors in the hospital who made you better.’

You munched the breadstick, spraying crumbs. Your eyes were thoughtful.

I thought you’d moved on but when I ladled the beans onto your plate and added the warmed-up sausages and set it in front of you with your miniature, coloured knife and fork, you said: ‘It was a lady doctor, in the hospital.’

I sat beside you with my own plate.

‘There was a lady, that’s right. But there were men doctors too.’

You shrugged, looked down without enthusiasm at your lunch.

I pointed. ‘Do you want me to cut the sausages?’

You shook your head. ‘It’s hot,’ you said. ‘I’m waiting for it to warm down.’

I looked out at the overgrown patch of garden and had a sudden vision of Matt, stripped to the waist, wielding a pair of shears. A man, a kind, capable man, bringing companionship. Making me feel less alone. I blinked it away.

‘Good idea, Gracie.’ I reached over and moved your hair out of your face, tucked it behind your ear. ‘Good girl.’