It’s almost midnight by the time Alison goes to bed. Again, no message or call from Adam. Jaz is right, Dad lied to him and paid him to stay away. But she thought they’d got past that and were committed to each other. He hadn’t been pleased about the baby though, had he? But why bother calling in while she’s out? Can’t he tell her if he wants to end it? She cries herself to sleep but wakes again an hour later with the sound of a car revving. The dog barks, padding up and down the laminate floor, groaning as he lies back down.

She peers out of the window on the landing and spots a car parked opposite. Someone gets out and stands in the road. She can’t tell if it’s a man or a woman because it’s too dark except for the yellow glow of a streetlight halfway down the road. It can’t be Adam, not tall enough and this person is plump. What are they doing here?

A roll of thunder rumbles far off in the night, then a flash of lightning darts through the landing. The rain begins lightly, playing a tune on the dormer roof, tinkling on the pipes. Soon it is heavy, slicing the sky with iron sheets, blurring her vision. But still the person stands there not moving, taking the beating rain on their head like a punishment.

Alison runs to the spare room. Her heart flicks into an uncomfortable rhythm – too fast for her body to contain. She peeks out and the person is looking straight up at her, startling her, so she steps back into the safety of the shadows. Sitting on the bed, she puts a hand on her bump to soothe the kicking baby.

After several minutes, she looks outside again. The person and the car have vanished. Relieved, she presses her chest and the bursting heartbeat begins to subside. The baby settles down when she rubs her bump and whispers that everything will be fine, Daddy will be home soon. She goes back to bed hoping he will be, that whatever she’s done, he’ll be able to forgive her and start afresh with their new baby. She doesn’t want to bring up another one of his children without him. Lying there, she listens to the comforting sounds of a motorbike speeding in the distance and the musical drip, drip, dripping of rain from the gutter.

Chapter Thirty-Two

Max: April 2017

Max sat in his van dialling Ali’s number from his mobile. In all the days he’d been trying, he’d got through once, but the line went dead. If he had to, he’d go and see Jaz. She must have given him a dodgy number. He knew she didn’t really want to put them back in touch.