Number 20 is marked above the first bed. Maddy smiles at the woman who looks like she’s been in bed all her life. Two along and the curtains are drawn. Maddy stands outside and nods at the bewildered face of a new father opposite, holding his baby in front of him like it’s a fresh loaf of bread. Max had been a more confident father right from the start. An image fills her mind of him falling to the bottom of the river, calling out to her. Lately, this detail gives her the tiniest satisfaction.

There don’t appear to be any voices coming from behind the floral material, so she scissors her fingertips into the gap. The tightly wrapped baby is in a Perspex crib, and Alison is sprawled on the unmade bed, asleep. Maddy’s chest spasms as if she’s been punched. She grips herself around the middle. The new father is taken up with trying to change the baby’s nappy while it kicks and cries. She slips inside the curtains and stands at the foot of the bed, watching Alison sleeping. Breathing. The young face is haggard, creased like a tissue and there are yellow stains on the shoulder of her shapeless T-shirt. She lays the flowers on the moveable table. At the bottom of the bed is a soft plump pillow. It would be so easy to hold it over that pretty face. She hesitates at hearing the voice. The baby kicks in its see-through container, drawing her eye, pulling her towards him.

‘There you are. I’ve been waiting for you.’ He’s tiny, six pounds, she guesses. A streak of downy blond hair covers the centre of his scalp. Max’s nose and chin, no question of it.

Almost as if he knew she’d arrived, the baby’s eyes flutter open. He kicks his miniature feet, the skin pink and wrinkled like a newborn bird.