She continued to breathe through the dull sickening unrelenting pain, waiting for the next short sharp knifing before even attempting to get into the house. Dave’s car wasn’t in the driveway. That was unusual – he was normally home before her. He was probably in the pub having one stiff drink before walking through the front door. Fair enough. She had a bottle of wine in the boot of the car. She planned to drink every night for the foreseeable.

Caroline wasn’t a weeknight drinker normally, but aside from the monthly evisceration there were extenuating circumstances. Their beloved dog Bruno had died at exactly seven p.m. the previous night. She read the time on the clock on the car: six forty-five. This time last night he was alive. He was snuggled into my chest and I was softly caressing his little ears just the way he liked and he seemed calm.

She waited and watched for the car clock to hit seven, the moment her little boy died. In chronic pain and with an apocalypse in her pants, she whispered to him. ‘One day anniversary today, buddy. I hope you’re at peace. Mammy loves you.’

Once inside, Caroline made her way upstairs. She stripped off and got into the shower and watched the red water turn to pink and then clear, while she sat in a ball with her back against the cold tiles and the full force of the water pouring down on her. She was bone tired. Her scorched insides burned and her back and legs ached and she just wanted to sit for a while.

Eventually she stood up. When she was dry and dressed in a loose top and another soft pair of elasticated black trousers that she kept for days like these, she started to worry a little that Dave still wasn’t home. Problem at work? Delay on M50? OMG crash?

As soon as she opened the kitchen door, she forgot her momentary fears when she laid eyes on Bruno’s bed in the corner of the room, his toys placed neatly inside. She felt the urge to kneel down and take a sniff of it, to remind her of Bruno’s smell, and suddenly she was on her knees inhaling the dog’s scent. My little boy. She was on her knees hugging and kissing Bruno’s bed for a minute, maybe a little more, before coming to her senses, wiping his stray hair from her mouth and struggling to stand.

She was holding her stomach with one hand and clutching her lower back with her other and was moving toward the kettle to boil it for a hot water bottle when she saw the note on the fridge door.

She walked toward it, not expecting it to be life-changing.