The words come at her without warning. Yvonne Hannigan, uttering those words with fury, her eyes bright with tears. This was in the church grounds after the funeral, the place heaving with mourners, many who didn’t even know the Hannigans but were moved by the awful tragedy. ‘There but for the grace of God,’ she’d heard one woman mutter to the other. Leah hadn’t wanted to go to the funeral. After the interview with the police – all those questions they’d asked her – she dreaded having to face other people, knowing that doubts lingered over the death, questions to which she had failed to provide answers. She had wept and railed against attending the funeral, but her father had been firm. She had to face these people, he’d insisted. She had to show her sorrow, to share their pain. To shirk it would be indecent, unforgivable. So she had gone, kept her head down, felt her parents’ protective grip on each arm. She had not expected to be seen, had failed to anticipate the icy rage of the grieving mother. ‘How could you?’ Yvonne had demanded. ‘How could you show your face here?’ before being led away. Jim had barely looked at Leah, hostile disgust in his eyes, which was nearly worse.

The baby’s face is in her head. The chubby softness of it, a dimple in one cheek, bright blue eyes, like little marbles. Cian. She remembers again the screaming from upstairs. The instant surge of panic, followed by the long, slow sigh of dread that filled out inside her and stayed with her long after that little body was taken away. His mother would once have sat in a corridor just like this one, waiting, full of hope and expectation for the life she was carrying inside her.

‘They’ve called your number,’ Jake prompts her. ‘Are you okay?’ he asks, concern in his voice.

‘Fine.’ She pushes down hard on all the negative thoughts and feelings, focusing instead on hope for what lies ahead.

Leah is reassured by her obstetrician’s age, which she guesses to be early fifties, and by Dr Feeney’s quiet manner. A man of few words, he’s polite and warm but not over-friendly. Efficient and professional, he looks through her chart and puts some clarifying questions to her, which she answers.

‘First baby,’ he comments. ‘And naturally conceived.’

‘That’s right.’

‘Trying for long?’ he asks, and Leah feels herself blush a little.

‘Actually, no. It was sort of an accident.’

‘A happy accident,’ Jake clarifies, and she smiles at him.