“Leo,” I mouth. Better cross that one off my list. Not that I have a list. I’ve been looking at names – endless streams of them – but nothing is screaming “pick me”. Who cares if I don’t have a name yet? Emma and her baby are OK. It’s all that matters.

Snuggling back under my covers, I curl into a foetal position, close my eyes and drift into proper sleep at last.

*

Waking late, I lie in bed for at least twenty minutes before getting up. I consider going for a light jog or a walk, but I’m feeling too lazy. Normally, I’d be ravaged with guilt if I didn’t immediately leap out of bed and do some form of exercise, but I’m blissfully guilt-free. It’s a pleasant change.

After I’ve eaten some banana on toast and given the house a quick vacuum, I give Mags a call.

“Want to go visit Em this morning?” I ask. “I could pick you up?”

“Absolutely,” says Mags. “Is she up for a visit, though, after her ordeal?”

I frown. Why is Mags describing the birth as an ordeal? I have a sneaky suspicion Finn might have been thin on the ground with details in his text.

“What exactly do you mean by ordeal?”

Mags is silent.

“Spill,” I demand.

“They didn’t want you to worry,” she says nervously. “Emma was going to phone you this morning.”

“Well she hasn’t phoned, so you can tell me instead.”

“I don’t know the exact details, but apparently the baby was the wrong way around and got stuck. Emma ended up having an emergency caesarean.”

A chill runs through my body. “Oh no.”

“The main thing is they’re OK.”

“I suppose.”

“Chin up, Trish. It doesn’t mean you’re going to have any problems. If anything, it’s probably reduced the odds, hasn’t it?”

“No.”

Mags sighs and I can tell she’s frustrated. While Mags may be the kindest, most thoughtful person I know, her tolerance for anyone who isn’t upbeat and positive is a little low. She believes negativity is infectious – if one person is down, they’ll bring others down with them. This may be true to a point, but what if everyone was happy and positive all the time? It would be downright freaky. Everyone has their moments in the deep end – some are just lucky they don’t drown.

I’m not sure I’m ready to go to the hospital now.

“Maybe we should hold off going to visit. Wait till we hear from Emma.”

“Good idea.” Mags yelps, giggles and starts talking in a muffled voice. “Sorry,” she says, coming back on the line. “Phoebe was tickling me.”