Lewis doesn’t sound like himself. Is it because she’s never heard him talk about Kiama in this way, fatherly, worried, caring? And if so, why should it make her feel uncomfortable to finally see this side of him?

‘He wakes up screaming,’ Lewis says, ‘every night without fail, sometimes at two in the morning, sometimes four. I’ve started going to bed at eight as well, because I can never get back to sleep once he wakes up like that. I end up lying awake the rest of the night watching him for signs it’s about to start again… so I can stop it, before he goes through it.’ He dips his head. ‘At first I kept trying to work out what it was that was waking him up and why at those particular times. But there’s no link.’ He looks embarrassed, as if he’d tried to correlate the time difference and time of Emma’s death to see if it was the same. He takes a drink and she mirrors him.

‘I didn’t know,’ she says. ‘Has he spoken to anyone?’

‘Yeah, umm, the child psychologist has seen him. And when he starts school they’ll give him counselling. But, I don’t know, Yvie. I don’t know if he’s okay. How can he be okay after seeing that? He’s too young to see something like that. He doesn’t understand it.’

‘Children are resilient.’

‘No. This isn’t some small domestic upset he’s seen.’

‘I know, Lewis, I was there. I’m struggling as well.’ She sounds so selfish. It shouldn’t be about her. It isn’t about her. She pushes the glass away. ‘And I shouldn’t be drinking.’

‘No. Neither should I. But it helps sometimes, right?’

She wants to crack, to break down and fall into his arms, it’s all she’s wanted these last few weeks, to be with him, to feel him surround her and be safe.

‘When are you going back to work?’ he asks.

‘I’m already back. I needed to keep busy. That’s what works for me.’

‘And your family? They’re looking after you?’

It was her parents and Claude who’d picked her up from the airport when she’d first returned home. At first she thought it was unnecessary, that she was well enough to get a cab. But once Kiama went with Lewis and Julie, her unravelling began. She remembers how her brother held her hand the entire journey back, how she was confused when they took her to her parents’ place, rather than her own home. Her mum ran her a bath and Yvonne lay in it until the water turned cold. That’s all she remembers, that and sleeping.

‘My family,’ her voice cracks, ‘yes, they’ve been great.’

‘I’m glad you’re not alone.’

‘But I am. When are you coming back?’