Ellie Pascoe was not enjoying the rich rewarding experience of pregnancy.

At roughly the halfway point she was still suffering the morning sickness which should have died away a month earlier and was already experiencing the backache and heartburn which might decently have waited till a month later.

‘For Christ's sake don't make soothing noises,' she said as she returned pale-faced to the breakfast table. 'I'm having a baby, not turning into one.'

Pascoe, warned, returned to his cornflakes and said lightly, 'You shouldn't have bought the ticket if you didn't want the trip.'

'I didn't know it meant the end of civilization as I know it,' she said grimly.

'At least you don't have to go to work,' said Pascoe.

They were well into July and the long vacation had begun at the college where Ellie lectured.

'It's the students who get the holiday, not us,' she retorted. This was an ancient tract of disputed land, full of shell holes. Pascoe made a tactical withdrawal.

'Can I have the butter, please?'

'If by that you mean that if I'd taken your advice and resigned