At last Lucy was sleeping. The nurse told him she’d be out for hours. He ran a hand over his chin, felt the bristles underneath his fingers. There was so much to do. He wanted to pack away all of Catherine’s things before Lucy came home later that week. There were so many people to tell, he didn’t know where to start. They thought they’d be arranging a christening, instead he needed to plan a funeral. He stood and swayed on his feet. He couldn’t remember when he last slept. Ate. He doubted he’d ever feel hungry again. Nothing could fill the void of loss inside of him.

Legs leaden, he stumbled out to his car. Not knowing if it was the same day. Unaware of the time. He peeled a parking ticket from his windscreen and tossed it onto the back seat.

He drove. He still couldn’t cry, but he felt it all inside of him. He reached their road but he didn’t turn into it. Not wanting to go inside and face the double buggy as soon as he pushed open the front door. Not wanting to be alone when he called his mum, Lucy’s mum. Instead, he drove to Fergus’s house, thumping his torment onto his front door. Falling into the hallway as Melissa let him inside.

‘Aidan?’

But he couldn’t speak. All of his words knotted inside of his throat.

Melissa led him into the lounge and settled him on the sofa, crouching in front of him in her candy-striped pyjamas, her hands on his knees.

‘Is Lucy okay?’

Aidan shook his head. Opened his mouth and then closed it again.

‘Aidan,’ Melissa said. ‘I need you to tell me what has happened.’

There was a gentleness about her. Her eyes. Her voice. But he didn’t want gentle. He wanted hardness. Anger. Someone to tell him it wasn’t fucking fair.

‘Where’s Fergus?’

‘He’s on a long-haul flight. He isn’t due back until tomorrow. Can I get you something? A drink?’

‘Whisky.’

‘Aidan, it’s eight o’clock in the morning.’ But still Melissa fetched a glass. Ice. A bottle.

The first gulp burned his throat. Warmed his belly. He knew that he needed to stay sober. That he had too much to do. He wanted to be back at the hospital before too long. But still he slugged a second glass of the amber liquid and swallowed it down in one go. He wiped his mouth and collapsed back against the cushions. Melissa eyeing him warily. ‘What’s wrong, Aidan?’

‘Are you and Fergus still trying for a baby?’ he asked.

‘Yes but… it’s been two years now. We need to look at other options but Fergus won’t admit—’

‘Don’t,’ Aidan said gruffly.

‘Don’t explore our options?’