He’s right. She’s never liked staying in other people’s houses. Being away from her own routine.

‘We’ll just have to stay here then. I can call in sick tomorrow. Drive home and pick up a few things.’

He shrugs.

‘You can help me clean, get things back in a decent state.’

‘Whatever.’

We sit on the sofa with our arms almost touching, just watching whatever happens to be on. The leftover chips going cold on the coffee table. Lights flashing through the net curtains every time a car goes past. I want to put my arm round Alex’s shoulder, to pull him into me. But there’s no point. He’d only move further away. For the time being this – right here – is the closest I’m likely to get.

The day after he was born Mum came to visit me in the hospital. She held him and held him and wouldn’t stop looking.

‘Oh Karen!’ she said, ‘he’s beautiful. There’s just something about little boys isn’t there? He’s an absolute little love.’

It should’ve made me happy, her being so besotted. I should’ve been grateful. All the time they spent together. The country walks, Saturday sleepovers, church on a Sunday, picking him up and making polite conversation over roast beef and Yorkshire pudding. He used to tell me he wanted to move in. If I close my eyes it’s like everything is tipping over. The whole world turning upside down.

The fine mess I’ve made of my life.

And the girls in town will be sipping coffee and sharing a tiramisu. They’ll be walking down Church Street, laughing, tripping over their own feet, just seeing where the night will take them. I can’t get it out of my mind. That moment. Alex in the hospital. The other babies crying. The smell of disinfectant and the ache and shock of it all. And Mum. The way she looked at him. Like nobody else really existed. Like someone had finally given her the thing she’d always really wanted.

8:25 am

He could be anywhere. They say he wandered very far      very far       over land and sea.

They make me spill the milk.

This spoon disappears when it

shouldn’t.        They hide things to make me confused.

Sometimes he comes to the backdoor and I give him warm milk. He never dresses for the

weather. Gulping the milk before Mum sees. He jumps up and

down

gives me things. Then they take them away,

the leaf, the feather, a bird’s egg

like a message

I tell him to be careful and he knows

because speaking isn’t –

there are other ways

And bad people are       people who don’t listen and              don’t want to.

Some of these people are beyond              decency