Mum laid a cold hand on my arm when I stopped and muttered: ‘I’m sorry, it’s been an emotional day.’ But mostly she and my dad just stood there, not knowing what to do or say.

Wednesday 26^th May

I was discharged from hospital a day later. Although I had originally imagined I would bring Albie home on my own, in a taxi, the reality of that soon proved impossible, and not only considering I was not meant to lift anything heavier than the baby for the next six weeks and there was barely anyone around to ask for help, but because I cherished Oscar being there. It all felt so much more daunting than I had expected.

‘How on earth do proper single mums cope?’ I pondered, as Oscar gathered up the last of my belongings, ready to escort us back to the ‘family’ home.

‘They have good friends, or perhaps a boyfriend, to help them out,’ he replied stoically.

I was so glad to have him with me; I just didn’t quite know how to articulate it. It had been an intense few days. ‘Thank you. So much,’ I said.

He acknowledged this with a smile.

Emerging from the hospital building, although I could barely stand up straight, I felt like a butterfly coming out of the chrysalis: brand new, on the precipice of a brave new world, but also exactly the same old me.

I paused, unsure whether I would need to wear my jacket. The temperature in the hospital ward had been tropical. Oscar reassured me it was only a short stroll to the car.

The London air around us was refreshingly familiar, the sky heavy with rain, yet the temperature mild.

As we drove home, Albie fell asleep. He looked so small, so vulnerable, encased in an additional two layers of cushioning inside his padded car seat.

The thought that he was completely dependent on me was overwhelming. If I wanted to jump out of this car right now and go meet a friend for a drink, he might well perish. Not that I was in any way capable of jumping out of cars. But the responsibility weighing down on me was huge.

London whizzed past the window, Waterloo, Vauxhall, Kennington, we stopped at the lights by Stockwell Tube and my mind flashed back for a moment. Back to that night. In the distance, I could see the pub, the one he and I had spent hours in, talking. Flirting. I looked across at Albie and for a fleeting moment I thought I recognized his face in that of my precious new boy.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Aisha

Monday 7^th June

The first few weeks after having the baby went by in a flurry of guests, broken sleep and health visitor appointments. Thankfully, breastfeeding was going well and, despite a brief lull, Joni had already put on a few pounds in just over three weeks. She seemed to be hungry all the time, and I enjoyed being able to satisfy her – for two hours at least, until the next feed. We heard over WhatsApp the news that Will and Christian had welcomed their baby, a boy called Leo on the 22^nd May, Lucy had had Albie on 24^th May. So everyone had given birth now except for Helen, bless her, who was still waddling around nine days overdue. The Baby Group WhatsApp thread was alive with discussion about breastfeeding, the colour of poo, and unfortunately for Susie and Lin – colic.