The last two days at Tara’s had been exhausting physically as well as emotionally. I’d been through the whole spectrum, from crying uncontrollably for hours in the middle of the night, often with Joni on the boob, to feeling quite numb when thinking through the logistics and resolving there was no option but to make Jason move out. The fear that a call could come at any time to reveal the outcome of the paternity test also left me in a permanent, sick-to-the-stomach state of nervousness.

At the same time, Joni had decided to land the worst bout of sleep regression on me since the one she’d had at three months. Maybe she had a sixth sense and was feeling the same separation anxiety from Jason that was also waking me up in a hot sweat several times a night. There were moments of physical pain, deep within me, as I yearned for Jason – the old Jason – and our former life, which I had always believed was happy. I now knew we had been living a partial lie. I fluctuated between feeling incredibly stupid for not listening to my intuition a year ago and raging with so much fury, both for him and Lucy, that I wanted to explode.

The first morning at Tara’s, I was so tired from the broken night’s sleep and all the crying, I could barely see through my puffy, bloodshot eyes when I woke up. For a few precious seconds I woke to the blissful sounds of my baby, and then the horror of what had happened hit me full on.

Much as Tara’s spare room was a lovely place to be, it was also the last place I imagined we would find ourselves during my maternity leave, when I should be enjoying these moments with Jason. I had received a barrage of frantic texts and missed calls from him during the first evening, but aside from sending him one text back, to let him know that we were safe and that I’d tell him when I was going back to the flat, that was the only communication we’d had. Words seemed futile right now; there was nothing he could say to make it better.

Now, after a second night at Tara’s, I was ready to go home. I didn’t want to see Jason, but I wanted to be back in the flat, for practical reasons as much as anything else. Joni and I needed our own clothes and things around us. I texted Jason to tell him I was coming back, and that he needed to go. I might not have been able to control the past, but it was my turn to call the shots now.

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Lucy

Friday 13^th August

On the night of my revelation, Oscar and I had got ready for bed in silence. We had drunk plenty of wine and were emotionally wrung out. I barely slept. On the one hand, the fact we were sleeping in the same bed had given me hope. But on the other, I knew things were far from resolved. When Albie woke in the night and I brought him into our bed to comfort him, Oscar silently moved to the spare room.