I tucked her up and tried to find soothing things to say, and turned off the light and left her.

Back in the master bedroom I curled up alone in bed and listened to the quiet and to the small sound of my own breathing. My body felt heavy and numb all over; I knew I was on the edge of sleep, but I couldn’t quite let go and drift off.

Mark came in as quietly as possible, so as not to wake me. He lay down next to me, and I stirred and shifted closer to him so that we were spooning. He put his arms around me and the memory came back to me of when we’d met at the beginning of the year, that long, leisurely lunch that had then turned into a walk followed by a drink and, finally, a reluctant parting and a promise to meet again.

I’d cancelled a customer for him. I never did that. At least, not if I could help it.

But I couldn’t help it. Once Mark had got back in touch, I’d been able to think of next to nothing else.

I’d read his Facebook message over and over:

I walked past the hairdresser’s where you used to work the other day, but they couldn’t tell me where to find you. I hope you don’t mind me resorting to this. I just wanted to say that I hope you’re well – really well – and that if you ever wanted to, I’d love to meet.

And then we had met, and he’d told me that he and Paula had divorced.

‘Clean break,’ he said. ‘She wants me out of her life.’

‘Maybe in a way it’s just as well you didn’t have kids,’ I said.

And he let out a big sigh. ‘So how are your kids? They must have changed a lot since I saw them last.’

I showed him a picture of Ellie, and then one of Ava. My finger was trembling as I touched the screen of my phone. He must have noticed. But I think he already knew the answer, and that was what gave him the courage to ask if Ava was his.

I didn’t even hesitate. ‘Yes,’ I said. ‘She is.’

I’d imagined that conversation so many times beforehand, wondering if I’d find the courage to tell him, dreading what he might say.

Thankfully, he wasn’t angry. Not a bit of it. He took the phone and expanded the photograph so her face filled the screen, and gazed at her for a long time. He was awestruck. Then something else kicked in: pride. He passed the phone back to me and asked me to tell him about her.

And I did. I told him about Ava for hours. And when we met again, I told him even more. I talked about Ellie, too. Not quite so much. But he was interested in that, too. He understood that my children were part of me and I was part of them, and he wanted to look after all of us.