It’s mid-morning and I’m still lying in bed reading. I considered getting up to go for a speed walk (running is no longer an option), but I had a restless night and after finally falling into a deep sleep around 4 a.m., I’m in no hurry to go anywhere. Until four months ago, I was a back sleeper. Now, I have to lie on my side and within minutes, my shoulder begins to cramp (why has my mattress suddenly got so hard?), my hip feels numb, and the skin on my swollen stomach feels stretched and sore.

The midwife suggested I use pillows to help, and I’ve tried stuffing one between my legs and under my belly but with limited relief. All I want to do is lie on my stomach or my back, but both are off limits. In fact, after the midwife told me that lying on my back could cause reduced blood flow to the foetus, I’ve been paranoid I’ll accidently deprive my baby of oxygen. I’ve resorted to stuffing pillows behind me to reduce the chance of inadvertently rolling onto my back in my sleep.

Now I’m propped up in bed, a cup of tea and a piece of shortbread on the bedside table, and a view of my garden through the open window. The baby has been giving me the odd nudge to let me know things are OK and I’m not thinking about how I’m going to get through the day, for a change. In this moment I feel brighter, as if the sun has come out from behind a cloud.

My phone buzzes and I’m tempted to let it ring, but when I check who’s calling I realize I haven’t spoken to my brother since our trip to the zoo.

“Hey, Will.”

“Trish, how are you?”

“Really good.”

“Great.”

There’s nervousness in his voice.

“Everything all right?” I ask, worried about Tilly.

“Actually, ah… I got a call from Mum yesterday. Dad died from a heart attack on Monday.”

My body freezes. “Oh.”

“Yeah. Exactly.”

I don’t know what to make of the news or how I’m supposed to feel about it. Maybe I’m in shock.

“The funeral’s tomorrow,” says Will. “I wondered… well, would you come with me? I figure I should go, even though we weren’t exactly on speaking terms. I don’t want Tilly there, so I’ve arranged for her to go to a friend’s place after school.” He hesitates and speaks again. “Mum said we could stay the night with her, but…” He trails off.

“There’s no way I’m staying in that house,” I blurt.

Will is silent.

“Honestly, Will. I’m not sure I’m up for the whole family reunion thing.”

“He was our dad, Trish. I think you should come, otherwise you might regret it later.”