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how best to continue, conscious as ever that Andy and Phil were good mates and had been since they were teenagers. ‘I’d like to, but Phil’s not keen. Says we can’t afford it and haven’t got the space.’
    ‘He’s right. You can’t and you haven’t,’ Mel said. ‘But since when did that stop people having babies?’
    Rosie laughed. ‘I don’t know, Mel, maybe he’s right, maybe I am getting past it.’
    ‘Shut up! Who are you? Kayleigh? Don’t give me that rubbish! You are the best mum. Christ, your world revolves around those girls and Phil. He’s a lucky man. He should be doing all he can to keep you happy!’
    ‘Not sure he always sees it that way. I wish I could lose a few pounds.’ She looked up at her friend through the fine mist of rain. The air was tinged with salt as it blew in from the sea.
    ‘What is wrong with you today? You are beautiful, you’ve always been beautiful, inside and out. You’ve got gorgeous curves, and your face, your hair... Blimey, girl, you are sexy!’
    Rosie shrugged, embarrassed by the compliment.
    ‘This weather’s proper shit!’ Mel changed the subject.
    ‘It’s February, what do you expect? And anyway, it’s a trade-off, isn’t it?’
    ‘How do you mean?’
    ‘Well, if the weather’s crap, there are no visitors, so we can park and get a seat in the coffee shop, but if the sun’s out, the place is busy and we get the sun but no seats or parking spaces.’
    Mel stopped in her tracks and stared at her friend from underneath her hood. ‘You are a right ball of sunshine today, Rosie May Shitstar!’
    They both crumpled into laughter and Rosie wished she hadn’t shared Naomi’s favourite swear word with her mate, hoping it wasn’t a moniker that was going to stick.
    *
    Rosie placed the mug of tea on the side table by her husband’s chair and sat back down on their denim sofa, an impulse-buy from a few years ago. It grew saggier and comfier with each passing year and was now so imperfect, no one cared about the odd splash of coffee or swipe of felt-tipped pen. It was a far cry from how she had guarded it when it was new, whipping off the kids’ shoes and banning food and drink from their tiny sitting room. This was far nicer, relaxed.
    ‘I bumped into Kayleigh earlier.’ She held her mug with both hands and tucked her feet beneath her legs.
    ‘Oh, sorry to hear that. What ailments is she suffering from today? Should I be dusting off my black tie? Again?’
    ‘Ah, don’t be mean, Phil. Mel thinks she’s got a screw loose.’
    ‘Bloody hell, and that’s coming from her!’ He enjoyed ribbing his best friend’s wife. ‘It’s Ross I feel sorry for, having to put up with that! Bloke needs a medal.’
    The two watched the adverts on the television, the silence broken by Rosie after some minutes.
    ‘Do you think we should have more sex?’ she asked, without taking her eyes off the screen.
    ‘Blimey, Rosie, what, right now?’ He laughed. ‘Can I finish my cup of tea first?’ He raised his mug.
    ‘No, you dafty, not now! I’ve just been thinking about it and I wondered if you think we have enough sex.’ She nibbled the shortbread biscuit she’d taken from the packet and turned to watch Phil do the same to its twin that she’d placed by his mug. The health kick had lasted approximately twelve hours. Neither of them mentioned it. She had, however, noticed that his salad had been returned in the Bob the Builder lunch-box, untouched.
    ‘When you say more sex,’ he pondered, sipping his tea, ‘do you mean more frequent or longer, or—’
    ‘I don’t know!’ She felt her cheeks flare. ‘As I say, I was just thinking about it today. How many times do you think we have sex a month?’
    ‘I’m not sure. Let me just go up and count the notches on the bedpost.’ He chuckled.
    ‘Seriously, Phil, how many times would you say we do it?’ She bit into her shortbread.
    Phil took a deep breath and looked skywards, as if counting. ‘I’d say