‘It’s open,’ Mel called, hearing a tap on the workshop door, and then, realising it could only be Jade, who’d no doubt come bearing tea and biscuits, she wiped the clay from her hands and walked over to open it.

‘How’s it going?’ Jade asked, with her usual radiant smile.

Mel smiled back, rather less joyously. ‘Painfully.’

Holding the door for Jade to come in, she beckoned to Hercules, who’d decided she preferred curling up in the workshop during the day, rather than in the kitchen with Jade. Mel couldn’t fathom why the dog had taken a dislike to the poor girl, growling if ever she was around her. As Jade had said, it was probably because she was nervous around dogs, having been bitten by one as a child. The dog obviously sensed it, she’d suggested. Still though, it was a bit of a mystery, Hercules being such a placid animal.

‘Come on, girl, outside.’ She beckoned again to the dog, who was watching Jade warily as she deposited the tray. ‘Hercules, come on,’ Mel tried, patting her thigh when the dog didn’t budge. She was growing irritated, she realised. She was doing that a lot lately – not surprising, when she was so perpetually exhausted. She felt like a zombie. Maybe she should ask Dr Meadows about changing her medication, or reducing the dose? Her nightmares were terrifying, and so real, as if she were living the dreams and the daytime was an illusion. Mel knew she’d terrified Mark, too, on several occasions, screaming out in her sleep. The last thing she wanted, though, was to resort to taking sleeping tablets on top of antidepressants, which was her only option if either of them were going to get a decent night’s sleep.

‘All right. You can go out later. But don’t blame me if you end up crossing your paws.’ Mel sighed, closing the door, and walked across to where Jade was looking her sculpture over, probably coming to the same conclusion Mel had.

She was sculpting like a zombie too.

‘You’ve finished it,’ Jade said with enthusiasm. ‘Well done, Mel.’

‘Finished, yes, but unfortunately not so well done.’ Emitting another sigh, Mel surveyed her endeavours with a critical eye. Her couple seemed to be holding on to each other in petrified desperation, rather than loving embrace. Where was the passion? The sensuality? The desire?

‘But it’s beautiful.’ Jade sounded surprised. ‘Really evocative.’

‘Evocative of what though?’ Mel said glumly. ‘They’re supposed to be in post-coital ecstasy, limbs, hearts and bodies entwined, two lovers as one, not two people grieving.’

Jade considered her passionless lovers quietly for a moment. ‘Maybe he wasn’t up to the job.’

It took Mel a second to catch up. ‘Oh God.’ She laughed. ‘More work needed then?’

Jade shrugged noncommittally. ‘Well, I think it’s fab, but I know it won’t be right until you’re happy with it. I’ll leave you to massage his ego,’ she said, turning for the door. ‘I thought I’d go out for a while before collecting Poppy.’

‘Oh?’ Mel tried to quell an immediate sense of panic. Panic that she’d be left alone to care for her baby, she realised, with an overwhelming sense of dismay.

‘I’m off to the DIY store,’ Jade went on, oblivious. ‘I thought I’d try and get a few ideas for the cottage, if ever the work gets underway. Don’t worry, I’ll take Evie with me so you can get on.’

Mel’s panic gave way to relief, followed swiftly by trepidation. What would she do when Jade wasn’t here on a permanent basis? How on earth would she cope?

Jade paused at the door. ‘What do you fancy for dinner? I could pop by the supermarket and get something nice, if you—’

‘No!’ Mel said quickly. And then she stopped herself, taking a deep breath. What the bloody hell was wrong with her? She had to get a grip! Of course she’d cope. Evie was her child. She loved her with her very bones. She’d lost her way, that was all. Postnatal depression wasn’t something she should feel ashamed of, or guilty about. She simply needed to find her way back, to regain control of her emotions, her life, her child. One step at a time.

Calming herself, she glanced towards Jade, who was blinking bemusedly in her direction. ‘I thought I’d cook tonight,’ Mel explained. ‘I’m really grateful for all your help, Jade. I’m sure we’d have starved without you, but it’s not fair to expect you to do it every night. You’re already doing far too much.’

‘I don’t mind.’

‘I insist,’ Mel said, with a decisive nod. ‘It will give you a break, and, to be honest, I could do with a break from my moody lovers.’

‘No problem,’ Jade said, smiling understandingly. ‘So, what will you cook?’

Mel thought about it. ‘Spaghetti bolognese,’ she decided. She could defrost the mince in the microwave and she probably had the other ingredients in. Enough to make a reasonably tasty dish anyway, served up with garlic bread, which Poppy and Mark both adored.

‘Perfect.’ Jade said, looking impressed. ‘And I’ll be around, so you can give me a shout if you need a hand.’

Mel steeled her determination to do nothing of the sort as Jade bounced brightly out of the door. She could manage to produce a meal in her own kitchen, for God’s sake.

Meanwhile… Her clay man needed more than his ego massaging, she fancied. He needed major surgery.

With the kiln still not working properly – meaning she’d have to transport everything to the university and beg the use of their kiln – she’d be more behind than ever if she started over, but… It was no good. The piece was substandard. Sliding her sad lovers reluctantly into the bin, she went to fetch a fresh lump of clay, which she could at least knead in readiness to start afresh tomorrow. Leaving the biscuit unguarded, however, with a Labrador in sniffing distance, turned out to be a fatal mistake.

‘Hercules! Bad girl!’ Mel scolded the dog, dumping her clay and tugging at her collar. But the dog resisted her attempts to heave her away, knocking the cup over and lapping greedily at the dregs. ‘Out. Go on, out!’ She marched the dog to the door, ready to throw her out. She was furious, and no one could accuse her of getting this out of proportion. What if Hercules jumped up to snatch at Poppy’s food? Or, God forbid, she tried to take food from Evie?

That dog really was getting away with too much. Sleeping on Poppy’s bed with Evie only yards away across the landing might even be too risky. But Mark seemed to have this hare-brained idea that Hercules would protect her if they were broken into. The only chance of that would be if the dog licked a burglar to death.

Honestly, if Mark was going to allow her the run of the house the least he could do was train her. If he couldn’t do that, then he should think about rehoming her. Jade had rehomed her cat quickly enough, after all, she thought crossly, retrieving the cup from the floor and finding it was cracked. Muttering, Mel crashed the cup back on to the tray – and then stopped, and breathed, realising her anger was escalating. It was a cup. Not even an expensive cup. God, was she really getting things so out of proportion, again, that she was contemplating letting Hercules go to complete strangers?

She thought of the ease with which Jade had got rid of her cat. Mel still couldn’t help wondering how the animal had disappeared so quickly. Surely she wouldn’t have had the poor thing put down? No, she said friends had taken it.

Feeling more guilty than ever that she’d considered Jade capable of having the cat disposed of in such a way despite her determination to give that particular emotion short shrift, Mel turned to mop up the tray, only to realise the capsule she should have taken was soggy with tea, its powdered contents spewing out.

On the bright side, at least Hercules hadn’t swallowed it. Despairing of herself, Mel shifted the tray out of the way and set about taking her frustration out on her lump of clay. She’d take another tablet when she went in to make dinner, which hopefully wouldn’t turn out to be as disastrous as everything else she attempted to do.