Page 56 of Who’s That Girl?

‘No.’ I smile awkwardly.

‘See. All sorted,’ laughs Miles, turning to the estate agent. ‘So, shall we move on to the kitchen?’

We spend the next ten minutes exploring the rest of downstairs and then move into the garden. I only have a tiny balcony at my flat and I’ve always dreamed of having my own proper garden. This would be perfect, I think, wandering around the neatly trimmed lawn and looking at all the different flowers and plants that I don’t know the names of. Still, I’m sure I could get a book about them, I decide, making a mental note to have a look on Amazon.

‘Oh, and look, we could have barbecues,’ I say, spotting one by a giant fern. I try imagining Miles in a striped butcher’s pinny flipping burgers while I stroll around the garden, handing out glasses of Pimm’s. Though to tell the truth, I’m not sure when we’d have time to organise a barbecue as we’re both always so busy. I look across at Miles, but he’s not paying any attention to the barbecue or the garden. Instead he’s staring distractedly up at the roof.

‘As you know, it’s a two-bedroom property, but there’s a possibility of a third and even a fourth if you convert the loft,’ the estate agent is saying. ‘If you’d like to take a look.’

‘A loft conversion?’ Miles seems galvanised by this news.

‘Yes, a lot of the properties on the street have done that. If you’d like to take a look inside …’

‘Miles, don’t you want to look at the garden?’ I say.

But it’s no good – he’s already following the estate agent. I feel a stab of disappointment. I wanted to show him the little fountain, and the barbecue, and all those lovely plants. He didn’t seem to notice any of it. Still, I suppose I can do that later, I tell myself, as I follow them back into the house.

Upstairs are two bedrooms and a bathroom, and I’m just taking a peek at the second when Miles joins me.

‘Well, what do you think?’ he whispers, out of earshot of the estate agent.

‘I love it!’ I enthuse, as we walk inside the second bedroom.

‘You do?’ Miles’s face breaks into a relieved smile.

‘Yes, it’s gorgeous.’ I nod excitedly. ‘There’s the lovely fireplace, and the garden.’ Pausing to take in the dimensions of the room, I’m suddenly hit by inspiration. ‘And this room would be perfect for an office.’ No sooner has the idea struck than my mind is already working overtime. ‘We could put a desk over by the window, and there’s plenty of room for a printer and everything.’

‘I actually had another idea.’

‘Oh, you mean put the desk against the other wall?’ I frown, trying to picture it. ‘Yes, I suppose that could work.’

‘No, silly.’ Sliding his arm round my waist, he pulls me close and looks at me meaningfully for a few moments. ‘I was thinking this room would be perfect for a nursery.’

‘You mean … for a baby?’ I falter.

‘Well, what else do you put in a nursery?’ He laughs, stroking my hair.

‘Erm …’ I push my hair behind my ears and try to think of something to say. I suddenly feel a bit panicky. One minute we’re talking about moving in together, the next I’ve given birth? What happened to the bit in the middle? We’ve just leapfrogged right over it. The proposal, me saying yes, the wedding …

Not that I think you have to be married to have a baby, and not that I don’t want to have a baby – one day – it’s just that we’ve never even talked about babies, except once when we went to the christening of Miles’s nephew and on the drive home we had one of those jokey, hypothetical discussions about what we’d call our children, which went something along the lines of:

Me: ‘I like Tallulah for a girl.’

Miles: ‘Urgh. What about Tarquin for a boy?’

Me: ‘Yuck.’

Back and forth, until we got bored and started talking about something else and forgot all about it. At least I did. Well, tried to.

‘So are you in a chain?’ The estate agent reappears with blundering chirpiness and we break apart.

‘Well, we’d be putting our own flats on the market, but I can’t see that being a problem – they’re both desirable one-bedroom properties,’ says Miles confidently.

I glance at him sharply. ‘We will?’

God, this is all moving a bit too fast. I don’t remember agreeing to that.

‘Well, yes, of course, darling,’ says Miles. ‘We discussed it, remember? Consolidating our assets, selling our individual properties …’