So, she would cope, because it wasn’t a choice. Patrick was encouraging, even if he wasn’t there very much. He sent regular “Love you’ texts. And he always said, when he eventually did come home, what a great job she was doing, even as he let his eyes wander to the piles of unwashed clothes, the half-empty tin of beans with a spoon sticking out, the unopened mail on the doormat. Even as he whispered urgently into the phone to his sister so that the moment he hung up, Lauren’s phone pinged with a message from Ruthie, breezily asking after her and the boys, promising to drop by as soon as she could.

* * *

When someone knocked on the front door, she thought about leaving it. It wouldn’t be Ruthie, not at this time; she’d be at work. Lauren stood in the arch between the kitchen and the sitting room, as still as she could, so that whoever it was might just think she wasn’t in and go away. But then, one of the boys made a loud sound, and the letter-box flapped open. A set of manicured fingers waggled at her through the gap.

“You going to let me in, babe?”

It was Cindy. Lauren crossed the room and opened the front door to her friend.

“I wasn’t expecting anyone,” she said, turning and quickly picking up several dirty cups from the carpet. “But come on in.”

Cindy waited for Lauren to stop fussing and gave her a hug. Lauren, aware she might not smell that great, broke away quickly and stepped back. Now that she looked properly at Cindy she was stunned at the sight of her; Cindy was neatly dressed, her post-baby bump only just visible beneath a floaty vest. She was wearing full make-up and strappy sandals with heels.

“Wow,” said Lauren, combing her hair with her fingers, “you look amazing. It’s really good to see you.” She glanced down at the baby. “Both of you. Isn’t she adorable?”

Cindy’s baby was sleeping soundly in the car seat, which she placed next to the Moses basket holding the twins, on the floor.

“Sorry to drop round like this,” said Cindy, “but me and Rosa were getting a bit worried about you.”

“Worried about me?” Lauren tried an offhand laugh that fell rather flat. She knew how it must look, how unwashed she was, how the house was a complete tip.

“Yes. Rosa set up that message group called Baby News, but you never put anything on it. You did see that she had the baby, the day after we came to see you?”

The time had all been sucked away. While she was in them, those hours that she fed to her babies went slower than they ought to, but then the days, the precious days flicked by as quick as streetlights on the motorway.

“I did see that, I think. Such good news. Have you visited them?” The other women’s babies were vague to Lauren, conceptual. She knew of them, but there was no space in her heart to wonder, or to care. About this she felt guilty. Her capacity to feel guilt was apparently unimpaired, possibly infinite.