‘You’re being paranoid.’ He took several sips, with his eyes closed. ‘I’m worried. I want to take you to see someone. There are drugs that would calm you. Stop the anxiety and depression. Help you to be more clear-headed. There are safe ones for the baby.’

My own skin reddened, and I couldn’t control my rapid blinking, or the feeling that my forehead was suddenly damp.

‘I’m fine. I won’t take any drug, no matter how safe they claim it is.’ And you can fuck off, I added silently. Because I will be so gone if you ever dare to try to make me.

‘You will if it’s needed. It’s not good for her to have a mother who is ill.’ He went into the sitting room, returned with my handbag. ‘Your mobile’s not in here.’

‘I must have forgotten it. It’s probably still on the bedside table.’

‘You shouldn’t be without it – that’s not safe. The forgetfulness is another sign that your mental health is suffering. You don’t need to be afraid to seek help. There’s no shame in it.’ He rummaged some more in my bag, and pulled out the DVD I’d bought when I was in St Ives. ‘What’s this?’ He held it up. His face was ashen.

‘A present for you. I thought we could watch it together. It’s a film about WikiLeaks – it’s a few years old but I know you’re interested in that stuff. You know, getting the truth to the people despite the personal risk, fighting for justice, stopping the bad guys from keeping dangerous secrets.’ I tried to laugh. ‘The kind of superhero thing you do every day.’

He swallowed hard, but managed a smile. ‘That was thoughtful. You’re right. I’d like that. And I haven’t seen this one. Thank you.’

‘Zac?’ My voice was soft.

‘What?’

‘I don’t need help from anyone else when I have you. I don’t need medicine when I have you. And I want to come with you to London.’

To my surprise, he said, ‘That may actually be a good thing.’

‘For you or me?’ I meant this as a joke.

‘Both.’ This was unexpected, too.

‘I feel better with you around.’ I tried to smile.

‘But . . .’ He downed the rest of his wine and poured another glass.

‘But?’

‘I’m worried the drive will exhaust you. Especially when you still insist on working those three afternoons.’

‘What if I stop immediately?’

‘And never go back?’

‘Never. Then I’ll have the energy to come with you. I’ll be under less strain.’ Work didn’t matter any more, anyway, when my time there was about to end.

‘You promise you will stop now, if I let you come?’ It was so easy for him to use the word ‘let,’ to assume he had the right to decide for me.