‘It was later that day when I went over to see you in the crib. Your tiny face, arms, legs. I reached for your fingers and twiddled them. Mom was standing over me when I said, “Her nose isn’t twitching. Old Rebecca’s nose twitched when I played with her fingers.” Mom pulled a blanket over the baby, then took me in her arms before sitting me on her lap on the couch.

‘“Danny,” she said, her tired eyes staring into mine. “We can’t tell anyone what happened. You are never to say anything about this or the police will come and find out what you did.” I was only three years old. Shaking on her lap.

‘As the days passed I began to forget about it, played with you, laughed at you. You were so cute and you made Mom happy, which was the best thing of all. It seemed like everything was back to normal. Mom was singing in the kitchen again, baking, we went to the park and the beach and everything was great. Then one night I heard her having a big row with Bert, it went on for ages. I sat in my room with my pillow over my head trying not to hear them, until eventually Bert left.’

I’m finding it hard to take all this in, staring wide-eyed at Danny, who is shivering in front of me. I’ve never seen him this broken before. How did he hold this in for all those years? Carrying on like nothing had happened? She must have scared him good when she mentioned the cops. What a fucking mean thing to do to a three-year-old.

I pour myself a glass of water. ‘What about Dad?’ I say, before gulping down the water.

Danny sighs, his face slipping back into the comfort of his hands. ‘He never knew.’

‘What do you mean, he never knew? Couldn’t he tell?’

Danny leans back in the chair.

‘It was another eight months before Dad came home. You were one by then, and he hadn’t seen you since you were a couple of weeks old, so…’

‘So he didn’t notice?’

‘Seems not.’

I’m listening to Danny telling me Dad knew nothing; that he thought I was the same baby he left behind when he went off to Iraq. But the newspapers under his bed have me wondering if maybe he hadn’t figured it out.

‘Did you ever talk to Mom about it again?’

‘No, never. I was just a kid Becca, I guess I just moved on, didn’t know any different.’

The room is quiet again, both of us exhausted by the truth. Morning light begins to creep into the room. We have been here all night. My head feels like it’s going to explode.

‘We have to tell him.’

‘I know,’ Danny says.

‘And we have to tell him now.’

‘It’s going to kill him.’