But he staggered in. Within seconds of my managing to heave myself up, he moved in front of me and lifted the seat. His peeing seemed to go on and on and on, as I stood with my back to the sink, my hands on my bump, feeling a series of rhythmic little punches that I thought might be hiccoughs, as if she had just woken and been shocked into them, fired by the adrenaline that must have been pumping through my veins and into hers. My nightdress was hitched up, falling crookedly, halfway to my thighs. Zac moved towards me, faced me straight on, a hand on each side of the sink, his mouth on mine. ‘Want you,’ he said.

‘Me too.’ I let my arms come up until one hand rested on the back of his head, the other on his neck. What I really wanted was to keep his attention on me and not the laptop case on the floor beneath the towel, to the right of his feet.

‘You know what they say.’ He was still slurring his words.

‘What do they say?’ I whispered.

‘They say sex is better for a woman when she’s pregnant.’

I sucked on his lower lip. ‘Is that medically evidenced?’

‘We can add to the research.’ Even drunk, Zac was a germophobe. He stayed where he was, pressing harder against me, or trying to, anyway, with my bump in the way. He turned the taps on, fumbled for the bar of lavender- scented soap he’d bought me, and washed his hands. He was reaching towards the towel rail, flailing when he saw the towel wasn’t there, spotting the heap of white cloth on the floor, bending to pick it up.

My bump went rock hard, and though it didn’t hurt, though I knew from everything I’d read that it had to be a Braxton Hicks contraction, I couldn’t move.

‘What the hell?’ He suddenly seemed a lot more sober.

I managed to look confused. ‘What’s wrong?’

‘Look.’ He pointed at the laptop case and I followed his hand with my eyes.

‘Did you bring it in here with you when you got home?’ I didn’t feel even a tiny pang of guilt at gaslighting him, but I did feel huge amounts of terror at the idea of his examining the laptop and finding the portable drive I’d stuck in it.

‘I don’t think so.’

I looked him straight in the eye, traced a finger over his lips. ‘You must have.’ I put my mouth close to his again, inhaled. I marvelled that the technique for distracting him had such a high success rate. Maxine knew this when she kicked me out. She knew it when she ambushed and recruited me later. ‘Whisky. You know how sexy I find that, especially when I can’t have any myself.’