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‘Hey,’ I say, giving his shoulder a shake. ‘What’s going on?’

‘You’re always tired,’ he tells his pillow. ‘We only just got married – oh, it doesn’t matter.’

I know what he’s saying.

We haven’t had sex in a long time.

And yes – he’s right. I’ve been too tired.

I lie back on my pillow, knowing I will fall asleep straight away, then wake up at 3 a.m., thinking, thinking.

I’m just closing my eyes when I hear my work phone bleep from the hall. It does that when emails come in – a very irritating setting that I haven’t yet worked out how to turn off.

‘Leave it,’ Col says, his back still turned.

‘I need to turn it off, Col. Otherwise it’ll bleep for the next hour.’

I grab my phone, return to the bedroom, and think:Better check my emails quickly.

Col, reading my mind, says, ‘Don’t do it, Kate. Go to sleep.’

‘If someone’s sent something at this time of night, it must be urgent. I just want to make sure I’m not walking into anything major tomorrow.’

‘Oh,Kate.’

‘It’ll only take a minute.’

‘Itnevertakes a minute.’

I know he’s right, but I open up my email account anyway, bracing myself for bad news, tension rising in my chest.

And there it is. Right at the top of the pile.

The worst news.

I’ve been sent a secure, encrypted email from Westminster Hospital.

It’s from a paediatric consultant, informing me that Tom Kinnock fell unconscious this week. Not quite a seizure, but something like it.

While Tom was passed out, the doctors found a partially healed head injury and are flagging this up as cause for concern.

The consultant paediatrician believes the injury happened several days before Tom was taken into hospital and is consistent with being hit with a blunt object.

My working days just got longer.

I need to arrange a multi-disciplinary meeting urgently.

And Col’s sex life will just have to wait.

Lizzie

Tom stayed in hospital last night.

I slept beside him on a narrow pull-out bed. Actually, I didn’t sleep much. It was hot, bright and uncomfortable, and I had a lot on my mind.

I’m home now, getting Tom a few bits and pieces – fruit, tea, snacks, clean clothes. I’ve packed a bag, showered off the hospital smell (putting too much shampoo in my new short hair as usual – I’m still not used to the length) and now I’m dressing.

While I’m pulling on my jeans, I hear a knock at the door. I freeze, one foot hovering off the ground, jeans halfway up.