‘I was six months when I went to the doctor. I can’t explain it totally. I didn’t want it to be real. But I can feel it kick.’ Now she begins to cry. ‘Before it was just like my period had gone but now I can actually feel it in me. I just want to die.’ A great wrenching groaning sound escapes her. It sounds alien. Her misery is absolute. After a moment, Adam puts his arm around her.

‘Do you think I’m disgusting?’ she asks him. He is shocked by the question. ‘It’s OK if you do. I just want to know.’

‘I don’t think you’re disgusting. I love you.’

She cries harder at that, at the dreadful kindness of his lie.

‘I want to kill him,’ she says. ‘I don’t know what to do,’ she cries.

‘You’ll be OK,’ he says.

‘What if I love it though?’

‘I don’t …’

‘I’m scared I’ll give birth and they’ll make me hold it and I won’t be able to get it away from me. I just want it to be over now. I want to die.’

‘Don’t. Please don’t say that.’ They are both crying now, holding each other. Months of despair flooding out of her. She knows how thick and toxic it is; she watches his skin fall away as it touches her.

Later she sits on one of the swings, pushing off the asphalt with the toes of her shoes, while he collects the shards of broken glass from the vodka bottle. This is Adam, who drops empty crisp packets on the pavement. She realizes that he’s worried a kid will cut themselves on the broken glass.

She has emptied out. Now she has a headache. The sun is not yet up but the sky is lightening. Her mum has called Adam again and they’ve spoken, Adam talking to her in calm, measured tones.

‘Do you think I said anything before it happened? What do you think actually happ—’

‘I don’t know,’ he said. ‘In a way it doesn’t matter as much as what happens now.’

‘Do I go to the police?’

‘I think you have to figure out what is best for you. I mean, talking about killing yourself … a doctor, a …’

‘I don’t want to be in my body.’

‘OK, but you don’t want to die. This is … this is horrible now, but if you give it time, I know you don’t believe me, but you can still have an amazing life. You’re funny and you’re clever and you’re beautiful. You’re going to have great things happen. Not just this.’

‘I can’t do it. I can’t do any of it.’

‘I’ll help.’