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When we got back to the apartment, Alex said, ‘Well done Juliette. I’ll see you next week.’

I was glowing when I came through the front door – it was the very first time I actually thought, yes, I could have a chance of finishing this marathon.

Friday April 10th

Baby book says Daisy should be rolling over by now.

Bit worried.

I keep trying to show her how to do it, but she just isn’t interested.

She looks at me all happy, like I’m doing a funny trick.

Althea says Wolfgang rolled over at three months. Probably there was some beef jerky nearby.

Saturday April 11th

Went round Helen and Henry’s today for more wedding planning.

I hate Helen and Henry’s house.

They live in a modern, gated complex for people who think they’re too good to mix with the rest of the village.

It’s not as posh as the big country estates by the fishing lake (where the Daltons live). But it’s posher than the cosy centre of the village where my parent’s pub is.

I quite like Henry, though. How he ended up with Helen I’ll never know. Maybe because she’s quite slim and looks good for her age. It blinded him to the fact that she’s a total harpy.

Henry owns Great Oakley Plastics Factory (which makes toilet roll holders, but Helen says makes aeroplane parts), and is your typical jolly posh man who looks alittlebit like Toad of Toad Hall.

Helen’s always bossing him around.

‘Tuckyour shirt in darling. Goodness, you look like a truck driver. You smellrevoltingdarling, do go and have a shower …’

He’s always running round trying to make her happy, but that’s impossible.

They can’t have much of a relationship because Helen is always round our house. She has her evening meal at ours half the time – some horrible fishy salad she eats standing at the breakfast bar.

Helen had a whole list of 36 wedding things to ‘discuss urgently’.

Colour scheme, wedding favours, blah blah.

I let her go through the list, and then I said, ‘You’ve forgotten something. Item number 37. Mind your own business.’

Monday April 13th

Found the best TV program ever!

It’s calledLove Rats. A TV crew film people cheating on their partners, then confront them with the damning footage.

Nick rolled his eyes when he found me watching it. Went on about my low-brow taste in television.

I think he’s in a bad mood because it’s the Actors’ Guild party tomorrow and he’s promised to take me along.

He hates me going to his acting things because I’m too honest.

Nick pretends to be this successful, cosmopolitan London actor, but the truth is his mum owns our flat and he hasn’t had a decent acting role in years.

While Nick was tweezing his eyebrows and nose hair, he told me not to show any baby pictures at the party.