‘Shit. It’s in the car. I just left it and ran. Shit.’

‘I wish you wouldn’t swear like that, Jeff. What is?’

‘My phone. It . . .’

She didn’t hear more because the door had closed behind him.

Hospitals were never quiet but suddenly it was silent, in the corridor outside, in this room, so that Greta realised it was because Olivia had died. Death is the greatest silence.

Soon, someone would come to tell her and take her in to see her daughter. No one came.

Where was Jeff? She needed him, they were parents, they should be together, she couldn’t do this on her own.

It seemed so unlikely that she and Jeff were divorced and he was with another woman, that he had twin boy babies who were always yowling, it was ridiculous. She and Jeff were married, they had always been married, they were Olivia’s parents.

The usual noises started up again outside.

‘Mr and Mrs Tonks? Oh . . .’

‘He had to go and phone . . . somebody. Mr Tonks. Jeff. Sorry.’

The nurse looked desperate.

‘She’s dead, isn’t she? Olivia? My daughter’s dead. I heard her die. I heard – nothing, I just heard the silence.’

‘No, no.’ As she came into the room, Greta saw that the woman was pregnant, probably almost due.

‘I was only pregnant once, that was with Olivia. You’re here to tell me that she died, aren’t you?’

‘Mrs Tonks . . .’ She came and sat down next to Greta. ‘I don’t know if that’s better or worse, sitting down.’

‘I found standing up the worst.’

‘I think it’s all the worst at this stage.’

‘When is it due?’

‘Oh, ages yet – seven more weeks – yes, I know – God knows what I’ll be like, a beached whale I should think.’

‘I don’t know how long he’ll be. My husband . . . he . . . he isn’t my husband. If you want to tell us both.’

‘Mrs Tonks, I have to apologise, but tonight we’re absolutely bursting at the seams here, every cubicle, every corner . . . and there’s only this one relatives’ room, you see, and it’s disgraceful, there should be more, at least two more, this isn’t the first time.’

‘What isn’t?’

‘I have a family waiting to . . . to be on their own, and they’re in the corridor by the entrance, they shouldn’t be there, they’ve a right to privacy, but . . .’

‘Why aren’t they in here?’

‘But how would you feel about that?’

‘Of course . . . of course they must come in here, I’ll go out, we can sit in the corridor, it’s fine.’

‘Mr Tonks . . .’

‘He’ll sit there with me.’

‘The trouble is this isn’t a very big room, is it, and there are five of them, but if you want to stay as well then that’s your right, please say, I can find some more chairs or –’