I have named them all. That huge one over there is Jakob; his wife is called Elsie. No, I’m not being facetious, she is his wife, once mated, male and female crows stay together for life. I have seen their chicks: beautiful, with bits of yellow on their bills and blue-eyed. I call to Elsie and she flies over and lands on my shoulder. I turn my head and she rubs her beak against my nose. I know most people think that crows are a dull black, but in fact, they have a light violet gloss on their bodies and a greenish-blue gloss on their wings. The violet gloss gleams in the sunlight. I know why Jakob chose her. She is beautiful.

When Elsie flies back to her mate I walk away. Soon I will have a chick of my own. Two months ago I stopped taking the pill and this morning I peed on a stick that came up with a thin blue line. For a few seconds I had stared at the stick in shock. Unable to move, something irrepressible opening up like a flower inside me.

I wanted to run into the bedroom and tell Jake straightaway, but I decided to save the news. After dinner tonight. He is taking me away to Paris. I will tell him then. Mine was in a bathroom but let him remember the moment as something truly special.

A gift on the anniversary of our meeting.

A small smile comes to me at the thought of his expression. I know he wants a big family. He has even got names all planned for them. He says he wants at least half a dozen, but obviously he’s not getting that. He tried to pin me down to five. I said two. He said four and we finally agreed on three. But in fact, I am open to four. It all depends on how painful childbirth turns out to be.

I hope my baby will be green-eyed like him.

The coming of the child makes my thoughts turn to Luke. I don’t dream so much of him anymore. At first I was sad. As horrible as they were, I felt with their passing, I had lost my last connection to him, but then I realised that the nightmares are not my connection to him. The memory of him doing handstands in the rain, building a snow staircase to Santa Claus and the hundreds of other memories of him are what’s left of him.

The sky is blue and the sun is warm on my back. I shade my eyes and look to the distance. I can see Jake riding Thor. He is coming in my direction. As ever he is not wearing a shirt. The wind whips at his hair. I feel the vibration of the horse and the man even before I hear them.

My heart swells with love. I smile up at him. The horse snorts and looks at me with big, liquid eyes. From my pocket I take out a lump of sugar and hold it in the palm of my hand. The horse goes for it. His rough lips brush my skin. Jake gets off, picks me up by the waist and whirls me around.

‘Hey,’ I say, laughing. ‘What’s this in aid of?’

‘Nothing. Every time I see you I feel such a rush of joy it has to be acted on.’

I put my hands on either side of his cheeks, look into those gorgeous, magnificent, grass-green eyes of his, and bending my head, kiss him. ‘I love you, Jake Eden. So damn much.’

And it’s true. I’m crazy about him. He has totally changed my life. I was covered in cobwebs in a cold, dark place until he laid eyes on me. He never took no for answer. And never gave up on me. Ever. He hung in there no matter how bad it looked. He is truly as he says. As tenacious as a gnarled tree.

‘I hope you never tire of telling me that,’ he says, gently setting me down on the ground.

‘Want some breakfast?’ I ask.

‘What am I having?’

‘What do you want?’

‘Well, today is our anniversary so I want something special.’

I look up at him. His skin is tanned and healthy and there is a cheeky smile playing about his mouth. One day his skin will crinkle and hang off his bones, but even then I will never tire of looking at him.

‘Well, come into the kitchen then,’ I say.

He fakes wretchedness. ‘There was a time you would have called me into the bedroom.’

I laugh and open the kitchen door. ‘Did you or did you not have an anniversary blowjob and an anniversary fuck this morning, Jake Eden?’

‘I’ll admit, I did.’

I step inside. It is cool in the house. I go to one of the cabinets and open it. ‘So…’

He grins. ‘I was hoping for something a bit more on our anniversary.’

When he is like this I find him impossible to resist. I take out a wooden box and open it.

Jake comes close. ‘Did they bring you something else today?’

I take a bit of a child’s broken plastic toy out of my pocket. Red and blue. I hold it out to him.

He takes it out of my palm and examines it. ‘Fucking hell, it’s hard to keep up with these critters. They keep bringing stuff for my wife.’

I suppress the laughter that is rising in my throat. ‘I have an Irish joke for you.’

He groans. ‘Not another one?’

God! How much I love, love, love this man. ‘Do you want to hear it or not?’

‘Does it feature a fork and soup rain?’

‘No.’

He leans his hip against the edge of the counter. ‘All right then.’

‘The thing is, this joke can only be told in the bedroom.’

‘Lead the way, madam,’ he says, straightening himself eagerly, his eyes shining.

Well, the joke had eight canned pineapple rings and a bit of whipped cream, but my husband is big, so I had to use twelve pineapple rings and half a can of whipped cream.

Did my husband enjoy the joke?

Yeah, any hot-blooded Irishman would. It was good enough to eat.

And guess who ate it?

Yeah, me. I’d eat anything off that Irishman…