‘Cheers!’ We raise our fizzing glasses towards Jared. He’s standing by the window staring at us, the blue of the harbour and the sky behind him, the midday winter sun casting a halo around his smiling face.

‘I just want to say a huge thank you to all of you for joining me in Create, my new venture,’ he says. ‘Sorry, our new venture. I hope we’ll be a successful and happy agency, and that we’ll be here for many years to come.’ He raises his glass again. ‘To success and happiness at Create.’

‘Success and happiness at Create!’ we echo, sipping at our champagne.

We had Beth look over Mike’s contract for the offices, and she declared it all legitimate and above board. Generous, she said, only tweaking a couple of minor clauses. So, here we are a few weeks later having a celebratory lunchtime launch party.

‘I’d also like to thank my beautiful wife, Louisa,’ Jared adds, ‘for supporting me in this wild and crazy dream. I’m doing this for her and for our son. To the beautiful Louisa!’

‘The beautiful Louisa!’ I redden as everyone turns to face me, glasses aloft, feeling something of an imposter. I didn’t exactly support Jared in his dreams of starting his own business. But, now that it’s here, of course I want him to succeed. I nod awkwardly, unsure about whether you’re supposed to drink to your own health or just stand there letting others do the drinking. I take a sip anyway, needing another slug of alcohol to calm my turbulent thoughts.

‘Lastly,’ Jared continues. ‘I want to thank our landlady and great family friend, Darcy. Please raise your glasses to the fabulous Darcy Lane.’

‘To the fabulous Darcy Lane!’ we cry.

My eyes swivel from Jared to Darcy. She’s standing off to the side, a shaft of sunlight illuminating her like a spotlight on the star of the show. Dressed immaculately in a cream trouser suit, her blonde hair gleams, and her features dimple prettily as we toast her generosity and friendship. She steps out of the spotlight and into Jared’s embrace. They kiss on the cheek and she whispers something to him that makes him throw his head back and roar with laughter.

My heart twists with a familiar pain. One I’ve tried to swallow down for several weeks now. Ever since my husband started spending most of his evenings running with her, consoling her, laughing with her. But I only have myself to blame. Wasn’t it I who suggested it in the first place? I have nothing to be jealous of, I tell myself. My husband still loves me. He still comes home to me each night. Nothing has happened with Darcy, and there’s no hint that Jared is bored with me. So why then does my heart beat erratically and my insides turn over every time I see them together or think of them being together?

Mike isn’t here. In fact, we haven’t seen him since he left Darcy. Initially, Mike’s absence worried Jared, but Darcy has managed to handle all his business queries, so far.

The toasts are over and someone cranks the music up. I introduce myself to a couple of Jared’s new employees and we make polite conversation about the stunning location of the offices and how wonderful it will be to work here overlooking the quay and the harbour beyond. All the while, I have my eye on Jared and Darcy who are laughing with a cluster of young guys in suits. They look like the perfect couple. Him, tall and dark, ambition oozing from every pore. Her, fair and slender, expensively sleek. I feel dowdy by comparison.

Back when I was in my twenties, my wild auburn curls used to make me the cool, quirky one who everyone wanted to hang out with. Smart and edgy. Boho chic personified. I was a journalist with things to say. Now, I’m old-fashioned and irrelevant. I don’t belong to this glamorous world of ad campaigns and designer offices. I’m simply Jared’s wife. The mother of his son. I’m not… good enough.

I glug down the rest of my champagne and cast about for a waitress to top me up. A wooden tray floats past, laden with warm, bite-sized fish canapés. I grab two and shove them both into my mouth at the same time, chewing but not tasting, flaky pastry sticking to my lower lip and chin. I wipe it off with the back of my free hand just as Darcy approaches.

‘Hey, sweetie,’ she says, her air kisses hovering metres from my pastry-flaked, salmon-breath face.

I swallow my mouthful too quickly and plaster on a smile. ‘Hi.’

‘You look so pretty in that dress,’ she says.

I dip my head in thanks, even though I know for a fact I look awful. That my dress is too tight. That my arse looks like a shelf you could rest your drink on, and my stomach is only semi-flattish because I’m wearing a pair of Spanx two sizes too small to suck everything in.

‘You look stunning as always,’ I reply. ‘Thanks again for the opportunity with the offices and everything. Jared really loves this place.’

‘Good,’ she says. ‘I’m sure he’ll be really successful.’

‘How are you doing?’ I ask, lowering my voice. ‘Any news with Mike?’

A cloud passes across her face and she shakes her head. ‘He’s saying he wants a divorce.’

‘I’m so sorry.’ I feel stupid for envying her style and looks earlier. She’s losing her husband – her family is breaking apart and I’m worrying about my dress being too tight.

‘I’m not accepting it,’ she says. ‘I’m going to do everything I can to get him back, Louisa.’

‘Good,’ I say. ‘I really hope you two work it out. Mike’s an idiot for leaving you.’

She smiles. ‘You’re sweet to say so.’

‘Can I get you a top up?’ I ask.

‘What? Oh, no thanks. I don’t normally drink during the day. I just had this for the toasts.’ She places her almost-full glass down on a table behind me.

‘Oh, sure, okay.’ I set my own empty glass down next to hers. I’d better not have any more either; I remember I have to pick Joe up from school later this afternoon. In fact, I’d better have some more canapés to soak up the alcohol I’ve just had.

‘I have had a bit of good news,’ she says, leaning closer. ‘But it’s nothing to do with Mike, unfortunately.’

‘Oh?’ I wait for her to tell me.

She bites the inside of her lip and tries to suppress a smile.

‘Well?’

‘I got emails last week from two different literary agents.’

‘Wow,’ I say. ‘That’s amazing.’

‘I know. I can hardly believe it. They’ve read my column and one of them said they know of at least three big publishers who would want to offer me a book deal.’

‘I’m really pleased for you, Darcy. You always wanted to write. Well, now it’s happening.’ I reach for my empty glass and nod at one of the waiting staff to top me up. I’ll get a taxi home.

‘I know. I keep having to pinch myself. It kind of makes up for all the crap I’m going through with Mike.’

I nod. ‘It always seems to work like that,’ I say. ‘You can never have it all, can you? When one area of your life is going well, another area has to go down the toilet. It’s like a law or something.’

‘I notice you haven’t written much lately,’ Darcy says. ‘Are you taking a break from Louisa’s Life’s a Beach?’

‘Kathryn gave me the boot,’ I say, taking another swig of champagne, feeling my anxiety and self-control detach from my brain.

‘Oh, no!’ Darcy says, placing a hand on my arm. ‘I hope I didn’t have anything to do with that…’

‘Shouldn’t think so,’ I reply. ‘Your writing’s much better than mine anyway. Wouldn’t blame Kathryn for giving my column to you instead.’

‘You’re sweet to say so, but I feel terrible now. Like I’m responsible.’ Her brow creases.

Did she really not realise? It’s hard to believe. Maybe it’s like my sister said, maybe Darcy is so self-absorbed she doesn’t think about how her actions impact on other people.

‘Forget it,’ I say. ‘I wasn’t enjoying the column any more anyway. I’m glad I’ve got more free time. I’m actually writing a book, too. This way, I get to spend more time on it.’ That’s a lie – I miss writing for the paper terribly, but I can’t guilt trip Darcy when she’s obviously going through such a rough patch with Mike.

‘Oh! You must let me have your manuscript when it’s finished. I could pass it on to my agent – once I decide who to go with.’

I neglect to mention that I haven’t looked at my novel in at least three years and I have a horrible feeling that it’s total crap. ‘Thanks,’ I say. ‘I may take you up on that.’

She kisses my cheek and stares over my shoulder. ‘Sweetie, I’ve just spotted an old friend, will you excuse me for just a—’

‘Sure,’ I say, draining my glass. ‘Go ahead.’ I have an urge to laugh, or maybe to cry. I’m not sure which. The music and the chatter, the heat and the laughter in the room are all crowding in on me. I stare from the account handlers in their suits to the designers and techies in their jeans and trainers. Everyone here is in charge of their own life. They know what they’re doing. They’re on a course, focused and going places. It’s only me – Louisa Sullivan – who doesn’t have a clue what she’s doing. I smile at a couple of Jared’s employees, but I don’t feel in the mood to make conversation. Instead, I wander over to one of the huge windows and stare down at the quay. At two young women in suits walking past, at the boats on the water waiting for their owners to take them out.

Back when I was at uni, studying Journalism, my career was the most important thing in my life. I was driven and sharp. Excited about all the things I was going to achieve. When did I lose that drive and energy? I keep in touch with a few of my college friends, and they’re all still working in the industry. My best friend from back then, Corinne, she writes investigative pieces for one of the broadsheets. Another good friend works for a music magazine, others freelance for popular online magazines and websites. Too late, I realise I took my writing gig for granted. Now it’s gone, I miss it terribly. Sure, I’m a wife and mother now, and I love being those things, but I also needed something that was just mine. My writing gave me that. I had it, and I gave it away.

‘Louisa? Louisa!’

His voice cuts through my self-pity and I’m suddenly back at the launch party once more, away from my maudlin thoughts.

‘Hey, Jared,’ I say, running a hand down his cheek. ‘Looks like it’s all going great. I think your agency is going to be brilliant.’

‘Do you really think so?’ he asks, a momentary flash of doubt in his eyes.

‘Of course,’ I say. ‘Look at you. Look at this place, these people. You’re going to be mega-successful, Jared Sullivan. I’m surprised Hello magazine aren’t here.’

‘No, but we’ve got Compass magazine and Dorset Life. You ready to pose for the camera?’

‘What? Now?’

‘Yep, come on.’ He pauses and stares at me. ‘Are you drunk, Lou?’

‘I might be… just a little bit. Gonna have to get a taxi home.’

‘Honestly, what are you like.’ He rolls his eyes and wipes his thumb across my lower lip. I thought he was being sexy, but he holds out his thumb, to show me a bit of pastry that was stuck to my lip.

‘Can’t take you anywhere.’ He leans down to kiss me, and I grin up at him, feeling happier. Sod it. Who cares if Darcy Lane has my column. Who cares if she’s getting an agent and a book deal. I have my gorgeous husband. And I’m going to write my own damn book.

By the time the taxi dropped me home I was sober again, if a little fuzzy-headed, so I decided to walk to school to pick Joe up. Now, we’re home again and Joe’s in bed waiting for Jared to come home and read him a story while I pick up random pieces of dirty laundry from Joe’s bedroom floor – a pair of blue pants, a grey sock, a school shirt – and toss them into the linen basket.

‘I think Daddy might be a little late tonight, Joe Bo.’

‘Ugh, why is he always late?’

‘He’s building his new business.’

‘Why?’

‘You know how you like building stuff with Lego? Making cool things. And when you get into it you don’t want to stop?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Well, grown-ups like making stuff, too. This is like Daddy’s grown-up Lego, and sometimes he gets… caught up in what he’s doing.’

‘Can I see what he built?’

‘I’m sure Daddy will take you to see his offices, yes.’

‘Cool!’ He yawns and flings his head back on the pillow. ‘I’m bored of waiting. Can you read my story tonight?’

‘Of course.’ I drop an inside-out grey sock into the basket before sitting on the edge of Joe’s bed. As I kiss his forehead, I hear the key in the lock.

‘Daddy!’ Joe nudges me out of the way, flings his duvet off and races out of the door and down the stairs.

The front door slams. ‘He-e-ey, buddy!’

I stand and make my way downstairs. Jared smiles up at me as he grapples with our son in a play fight. So much for getting Joe calm before bed.

‘How was the rest of the afternoon?’ I ask.

‘Great. The staff are really excited. Fired up, you know. I’m looking forward to really getting stuck in tomorrow.’

‘Can we have a proper play fight, Dad? In the lounge.’

‘Sure, sure, little man. Let me get my coat off.’

‘It’s a bit late for fights now,’ I say. ‘You’ve got school tomorrow. Daddy will read you a story instead.’ I catch Jared’s eye and he nods.

‘Your mother’s right.’

‘O-oh, plee-ase.’ Joe stares up at me, and Jared looks at me with the exact same pleading expression.

‘Fine,’ I say. ‘You go fight. I’ll go and cook.’

‘I’ll eat later,’ Jared says, shrugging off his coat and hanging it over the bannister. ‘Gonna go for a run first.’

‘With Darcy?’ I ask.

‘Yeah. Apparently, Mike’s being a d-i-c-k.’

‘Does that spell dick?’ Joe says. ‘Isn’t that a rude word?’

‘Daddy can’t spell,’ I say, rolling my eyes at Jared. ‘He meant to say duck.’

‘Why is Mike a duck?’

‘I won’t be gone long,’ Jared says. ‘Just an hour or so.’

My blood pressure is rising and I suddenly want to scream. Why do all our conversations these days revolve around Mike and Darcy Lane? And why have Darcy’s needs suddenly become more important to my husband than mine? ‘Fine,’ I say. ‘Do what you want, Jared.’

I march past him and into the kitchen.

‘Hey!’ Jared calls out to me, but I ignore him. I hear him speak to Joe: ‘Your mum’s right – it’s too late for play fighting tonight. Hop upstairs into bed and I’ll come and read you a story in a minute.’

‘Oh, but—’

‘Now, buddy. No arguing.’

I hear the mournful stomp of Joe’s feet up the stairs, each step a clang of disappointment – my fault, of course.

‘Lou.’ Jared follows me into the kitchen. ‘Why are you so cross? Did I do something?’

I shake my head, not trusting myself to speak. I don’t want to cry. I don’t want to shout. And I don’t want an argument. But how else is all this going to get resolved? I have my back to him, my hands gripping the counter top, my shoulders hunched. He comes up behind me and places a hand on my shoulder.

‘Lou, talk to me. What’s going on?’

‘I…’ I snap my mouth shut. I can’t tell him about my fears. He’ll think I’m being irrational. I already told Beth, and she seemed to think I was blowing things out of proportion.

‘Louisa?’

‘I just… I just wanted us to spend a bit of time together this evening.’ I turn to face him, folding my arms tight across my chest. ‘I wanted you all to myself. If you go running, you won’t be back till after nine and—’

‘Okay,’ he replies. ‘How about if I promise to be home by eight thirty?’

I stare at him. This husband of mine who is bargaining with me so he can go out running with another woman.

‘Tell you what,’ I say. ‘Why don’t you stay out all night? I’d hate to think I was keeping you away from Darcy for longer than necessary.’

‘Lou!’ His brow furrows, his jaw clenches.

‘What?’ I say. ‘You’d obviously prefer to be out running with her, than in here with me. So I’m saying, go. You should be happy now, right? Why aren’t you smiling?’

‘You know that’s not true. I would much rather stay here with you, but I already told Darcy I would go, and she’s so down at the moment.’

‘She didn’t look down at the launch today. She looked… radiant is a word that springs to mind. You and she were having a wonderfully hilarious conversation together.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous.’ Jared scowls. ‘It was a business launch. She’s hardly going to cry in a roomful of strangers.’

‘No, she’ll save that for your shoulder.’ I hate the words that are spitting from my mouth, yet I can’t stop them.

‘For God’s sake! It was your suggestion I go out with her in the first place.’ He runs a hand over the top of his head.

‘Yes, but not every frigging night,’ I hiss, suddenly mindful that our voices are becoming too loud, and Joe’s still awake upstairs.

‘It’s not every night. And you know Darcy’s going through hell with Mike. But if you want me to stay home then, of course, I—’

‘Don’t do me any favours, Jared.’

‘Why are you being like this?’

‘Actually,’ I say, ‘you can stay here with Joe. I’m going out for a change. And you can do the school run tomorrow, too.’

‘I have client meetings tomorrow, Lou. I can’t—’

‘Tough. You’ll have to reschedule. He’s your son, too. It won’t hurt to drop him off and pick him up for one day.’ My body is trembling as I speak. I have to get out of the house before I say more things I’ll regret. I barge past him, grabbing my handbag from the table and swiping at a tear on my cheek.

‘Don’t go, Lou,’ Jared says. ‘We need to talk about this.’

‘I’ll be at Beth’s if you need me,’ I say.

I briefly consider packing an overnight bag, but I’m not calm enough to do it and I can’t let Joe see me like this. Beth will have a spare toothbrush I can borrow. I grab my coat and keys and leave, feeling sick when I realise I didn’t kiss Joe goodnight.