‘No. Too late. You won’t ever get to see him. He’s in the special care baby unit because he’s a bit poorly on account of being early. They’re gonna help me be a mum, right? And I’m gonna try, really try. But if something goes wrong, they won’t ever give him to a pig like you. They’ve got loads of nice families who’d adopt.’ Her voice breaks. I know all she was trying to do was create a family of her own.

‘Zoë, wait, we can sort this—’

But she’s cut me off.

The sharp edge of the step presses against the back of my legs. The smell of fig and pomegranate room fragrance nauseates me. I am a father. It changes everything.

Unless Zoë is right and it changes nothing. For the first time in years, I have a future, with Kerry. The chance of training for work I enjoy. Even my parents seem happy, now I’m clean.

And I believe Zoë when she says she will do everything she can to keep her child away from me. If she’d listened to me, he wouldn’t even exist. And she has the ability to slip away, like a ghost, as she has many times before.

Chapter 37: Kerry

26 December 2004

Since I walked away from Joel yesterday, every minute has felt like an hour. Even the shift has dragged, despite the Boxing Day dramas that kept the lines busy: gravy burns and overdoses and all the falls and broken bones that have arrived with the snow and ice.

Being at home was way worse than work, though. Christmas dinner for three was unendurable, my lips still tingling from kissing Joel. To make it worse, Tim and Elaine seemed to have made a pact to be as cheery as possible, pulling crackers and opening gifts with the hammy gusto you’d expect in a festive edition of Only Fools and Horses.

As I cleared the table after the meal, I couldn’t imagine the bungalow without me. But Tim and I have had three years to find a way to make each other happy. Since August, there’ve been times when we’ve managed it, but I’ve been kidding myself. Do I feel guilty about what I’m about to do? Totally. Is guilt a reason to do nothing?

Never.

‘Almost there,’ says Mo, bringing me back to the present with a jolt. She hands me a coffee. ‘I plan to spend the next week in a Bailey’s and brandy-butter coma. You?’

‘Much the same.’

I’m going to tell Tim this afternoon: I’ll take him to the pub and buy us both doubles, to give me the courage to go through with it. There’s no way of knowing how he’ll respond.