She turns the tiny frame in her hands, thinking there might be a clue, a tell-tale mark. It was a special photo; Jamie was two days old, weighed only 5lb, too small for any normal-sized clothes, too weak to stay awake and feed from her breast. She sniffs to stop tears rising to the surface. She runs the duster across the top of the bookcase. Daft how she still gets tearful over nothing. No wonder her brothers used to call her a cry baby.

In the bedroom, she slips the frame into a drawer of her bedside table. She opens a window and shakes the duster outside. He’ll call soon and come up with a simple reason. And she’s prepared to forgive him as long as it’s nothing bad.

A series of envelopes drop on the mat as she’s coming downstairs. More bills. She collects them up and adds them to the bulging pile in the kitchen, promising herself she’ll go through them later.

Jamie has finished his pasta and is curled up on the chair in the sitting room, watching cartoons. She notices a mark on the French window, an imprint of a wing. Opening the door, she scours the area outside for a body, but can’t see any. It looks like it had quite a wallop. Could it have flown away? Or is it the same one that was dead on the front doormat? Maybe the cat picked it up from here and dropped it there. Would it do that? She squashes in next to Jamie and gives him a cuddle, kissing the top of his head.

‘When’s Daddy coming home?’ He doesn’t give up.

‘I don’t honestly know.’ It’s her stock reply but what else can she say when she doesn’t know the answer? Perhaps she should never have let Adam back in her life.

She slides the patio doors wider, encouraging him to play outside in the thin evening sunshine now it’s stopped raining. The dog bounds past her, racing down the garden, ears flapping. He disappears into the bushes behind the apple tree.

She’s wandering back to the kitchen when the telephone rings. There’s a moment’s hesitation before she picks it up. It’s Rob. He wants to know if he can have Monday afternoon off. She passes her finger over the date on the calendar. If he can swap it for Tuesday morning, she tells him, she could wait in for Adam again.

The phone is still in her hand when it rings again.

‘What is it, Rob?’ There is no answer. Oh, come on, please. She hurries past Jamie, outside.