At least when he was home he could find time to nap in the day. Now he was back at work, and Jo was home, either with Alice, or Martha, a retired teacher who was helping look after her.

He studied the CAD model of an oil cooler housing on the screen and yawned, a deep, full yawn. Only 10 a.m. It was going to be a long day. At about 9.30 the night before, Alice had gone to bed. Jo – as usual – had no interest in following suit and he’d stayed up with his daughter, walking around the house in endless circles with her nestled against his chest in a papoose. It was the only way she’d go to – and stay – asleep. At a pinch he could stop walking, but as soon as he sat down – and heaven forbid he lay down on the couch – she would wake up and make a quiet whimpering sound.

It was the precursor to the full works. The full, red-faced, open-throated, screaming works.

And then he’d have to stand up and start walking again, trying to soothe her to silence for five or ten minutes until she settled down, if she ever did. It wasn’t worth trying.

Then, at 2 a.m., Alice had come down and taken over. She had a different strategy. Jo would sleep for her, provided she was in constant motion, so Alice would strap her into the car seat, and go for a long drive, listening to an audiobook she wanted to read. They’d tried to replace the motion of the car with a bouncy chair, but that was not remotely acceptable to their daughter. Jo needed to be in something with wheels. Perhaps she’d be a racing driver when she grew up. He hoped so. It would at least make this into a funny story. At the moment it wasn’t funny at all. It meant their nights had become a combination of him walking around wearing the floors out, and Alice driving around the streets.

His mum hadn’t said as much, but he could tell she thought it was a situation of their own making. Their bedtime routine – when she would go to bed – involved various bounces and pats before they laid her gently in her bed, the room dark and silent. Then they had to remain in the room, bent over the crib, one hand on her back. If they moved too soon or if someone made a noise or if it was too light, Jo would wake up and they would be back to square one.

He had explained all this to his mum when she had come to babysit so they could go out to eat. She had listened, and nodded, and then kissed him on the cheek and said We’ll be OK, love. He tried to explain how important it was, but she ushered him towards the door and told him to have a good time.