When we were outside the pub, Aisha said: ‘She can get fractious at this time of the evening, especially when she’s tired and hungry. I’ll walk with you a little bit, if you like, Joni will probably drop off.’

‘It’s okay, it sounds like Albie needs me. I’ll run ahead.’ Her home was in the opposite direction anyway.

‘I hope he gets back on the bottle okay,’ she said sympathetically.

Once I was alone in the street, I had a chance to send the text. It was time.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Lucy

Oscar phoned again as I neared our street.

‘What’s taking you so long?’ he bellowed, before I could speak.

‘I’m coming as fast as I can!’

‘Hurry,’ he replied. I could hear Albie screaming blue murder in the background.

‘Okay!’ I shouted over the din, ‘but give me a break – this is the first time I’ve been on my own for more than an hour and a half in four fucking weeks!’ As I hung up, I shocked myself at how angry I sounded. All the secrets and lies of the last few months were taking their toll.

Albie was in a terrible state, I could hear his cries from down the street. When I got home, Oscar was pacing around the room, trying to contain the purple-faced baby in a badly made swaddle. An open bottle of red wine was on the table.

‘I was calling non-stop. None of the teats worked. He wants you,’ he said sternly, handing him over. ‘I’m not sure if I can do this all over again.’ His words stung and I almost told him the thing I had been keeping from him for over nine months. But I stopped myself, knowing I would instantly regret it.

‘I’m sorry,’ I said, taking Albie into my arms and feeling his warm little head settle into the nook of my neck. The light covering of downy hair on his crown was damp, his face was red and scrunched up; he’d got himself into such a state. He stopped crying for a moment at least. ‘I honestly thought he’d take the bottle if there was no other option. I thought perseverance might help.’

Oscar shook his head and avoided eye contact. ‘He’s only tiny, Lucy,’ he sighed. ‘He needs his mama.’

I felt like a bad mum.

‘I’m doing my best,’ I said. ‘I feel shit enough as it is.’

‘It’s my turn to go to the pub now,’ he declared.

We stared at each other in silence. His words rolled around my head. I’m not sure if I can do this again.

I didn’t think Oscar was being serious about going out, but soon realized he was, as he strode down the hallway to retrieve his coat and shoes. He shut the door without saying goodbye, clearly desperate to get away from the wailing baby. I wondered if he would come back. Maybe it was best if he didn’t. I’d pushed him too far this evening. Perhaps it would be better if I just raised Albie on my own; perhaps I didn’t deserve a good man like Oscar – maybe I didn’t deserve to be a mother at all. Not after what I had done. My chest felt tight.