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‘Do you know what I’d really like?’ Valentina said, turning to look at Rocco, with such a confrontational edge he almost flinched. ‘I would really like a gin and tonic.’ Her nostrils flared. ‘A ruddy great big fuck-off double gin and tonic. With a slice of lime. In one of those massive goldfish bowl glasses, so full of ice it jangles when I lift it. And it’s so refreshing and fizzy I can feel little bubbles of the tonic going up my nose as I bring the glass to my mouth. That’s what I’d really like.’

This wasn’t good.

‘I’ve got Sprite?’ he suggested.

Valentina laid her hands on the table and closed her eyes for a moment before opening them and saying calmly, ‘A Sprite would be lovely, thank you.’

Rocco got a couple of cans from the fridge and filled two glasses with ice before taking everything over to the table and sitting opposite her.

‘Don’t worry, I’m not about to go on a bender,’ Valentina said as she opened her can and poured half into her glass. ‘It’s the notion I like.’ Her eyes filled with tears.

‘Are you okay?’ Rocco asked.

Valentina sniffed. ‘The bubbles are making my eyes water.’

‘You haven’t drunk any yet.’

Valentina harrumphed, resting her elbows on the table and cupping her hands under her chin.

‘Everything’s going so fast…’ She trailed off despondently.

‘Have you drawn up your birth plan?’

Valentina raised her fine eyebrows slightly but shook her head.

‘You need to do that soon.’

‘I know, but I think part of me doesn’t want to imagine what it’s going to be like. I mean, I guess it’ll be along the lines of pain, some screaming, a lot more pain, some yukky stuff and then a baby, but I’ve not dwelt on any finer details.’

From Rocco’s perspective it appeared Valentina didn’t want to look at any detail, fine or otherwise. Rocco was pretty sure Valentina still hadn’t made up the cot to go by the side of her bed and he very much doubted she’d even thought about packing her bag for the hospital or started on a soothing playlist for during labour. He’d read about the nesting instinct, how pregnancy made women want to tidy the house, clean and get everything nice and comfortable in readiness for the new arrival. But Valentina seemed to want to spend less and less time at home.

The flippant remark Valentina had made about having the spare room made up for her had got Rocco thinking. He knew every question he asked was like taking a step into an emotional minefield, but he mentally put on an explosive ordnance disposal suit and said, ‘Would you like to move in here after the birth? Or even slightly before the birth so you’re not alone.’

Valentina’s eyebrows practically shot into her hairline.

‘I don’t mean to stay for ever, just for the first wee while. I can help with nappy changes, feeds, mental support for you. I’ll make sure you’ve got healthy food to eat and I can even make you a gin and tonic if you’ve expressed enough milk,’ he said, adding quickly, ‘or obviously you may decide to bottle feed as I know sometimes women can’t breast feed or simply don’t want to.’

‘Do you not think I’ll be able to cope?’ she asked in a small voice.

‘No! Not at all!’ Oh dear, this wasn’t what Rocco was implying. ‘I think you’ll be an amazing mum. I just want to be here to support you.’

With the unsaid footnote, because for whatever the reason, the father isn’t on the scene and it’s so much to take on by yourself.

‘I know Mum and Dad are here and so excited, but they might end up being a little…’

‘Annoying?’ Valentina suggested.

‘I was going to say overwhelming, and there’s every chance Mum would take over. They’d mean well and you’d feel bad about getting irritated.’ Rocco grinned at her. ‘But I wouldn’t dare try to tell you I know best about something. No mansplaining whatsoever. I’m purely here for support. And I want to spend time with you and my little niece or nephew. It’ll be fun.’

Valentina’s look was quite incredulous.

‘Fun? But babies cry throughout the night. You have work. And there will be nappies everywhere and you’ll get tetchy and I’ll be hormonal and worried and…’

He waved his hands in a bid to stop her spiralling. ‘Think of me as a safety net. To ease you into the first couple of weeks. And you may need time to heal if you get a caesarean or an episiotomy.’

‘Oh God, stop!’ Valentina said. ‘I can’t deal with you saying episiotomy. Do you even know what that is?’

Rocco wished he didn’t as soon as he’d read about it, but he nodded. ‘It’s the cut the surgeon makes to, er, enlarge the opening.’