On his most recent visit to Cambridge, he hoped to talk about it with Martin, thinking that his presence has an almost magical quality. But once he arrived, he felt the folding in of himself and let Martin’s lively company be enough for both of them. He must have stayed with him more than ten times in the last two years. Sometimes with Gloria, sometimes on his own. It’s best when she comes, and Martin cooks an elaborate meal, with wine and loud music, and flowers on the table, but mostly he comes on his own, wanting to give her a break.

Gloria is walking towards him now, carrying the baby in its ludicrous satin gown, followed by Ruth, who smiles at him and says, ‘Want a cuddle, Uncle William?’

He shakes his head. ‘No, thank you.’

Ruth mock frowns, looks to Gloria.

‘Come on, William.’ Gloria smiles, but there’s warning in her voice. ‘He’s a poppet.’ She holds the baby towards him, determined.

It won’t take much, he thinks, just reach out, take the child, and that delicious smile will sweep her face.

‘Come on then, little chap.’ He stands, trying to sound confident. His hands close around the baby’s sides, and he feels the tiny case of ribs under the slip and slide of the satin. The two women grin at him. He settles the baby into the crook of his arm.

‘Look how relaxed he is!’ Gloria says.

‘Sit down with him’ – Ruth looks eager – ‘he might drop off.’

Carefully, William settles back into the seat, feels the weight of the miniature body relax in his arms, watches the eyelids, slower and heavier with each blink. Everyone else is standing and he’s aware of other guests smiling down at him. He concentrates on the baby, the adults now on the periphery of his vision.

A golden flicker at the edge of his left eye is the only warning, seconds before his body jolts at the certainty that the baby is dead. He struggles to stand, holding it with both hands. He shouts and the baby wakes. But how? It’s dead, and all these people, all these parents are waiting for him. He must do it quickly, before it starts to decompose! He tries to run through the crowd. There’s a cry of anguish. The baby is being pulled from his arms by an angry man. The father wants the body, but William mustn’t give it to him! He tightens his grip on the screaming baby. He must get to work!

‘William! William! Let go of the baby!’

Gloria. Her arms round him. Someone’s sobbing. Where’s the baby? The line of parents stare at him.

‘All right now?’ she asks, searching his face.