And that had been it. She’d spent her days patrolling the squat’s sour walls, terrified to leave in case a messenger came and she missed it, barely talking to anyone else, marking time in aches and kicks. Her relationship with Mark, she began to realize, had cushioned her from the rest of them, kept her separate; meant now that, since Xanthe had left and Clio was barely there any more, she had almost nothing to say to these people. She hadn’t really even bothered to get to know Fran’s new animal rights pals who were holing up in the copy room. It was Spider, gentle, grubby Spider, who heard her crying in bed one day and sat down beside her mattress.

‘What’s wrong here, matey?’

‘I’m fine. I just need to sleep.’

‘Are you sure about that then? Because I don’t think you’re doing fine, Sam.’

‘I would be. I would be if I could just sleep on a proper fucking bed with legs, and clean sheets! Clean sheets. Just for once.’

‘Matey. Matey. I don’t think you should be here. I’ve been wanting to say this for a while now. You need to get yourself back to your mum’s. We’re not going to be able to give you the help you need here.’

‘I have to stay here, Spider. He said I had to, to get the letters. To know how to contact him.’

‘This is Mark, yeh? He said you had to stay here, in this squat? This fucking rat trap? When you’s what, six month pregnant? With his kid?’

She nodded and collapsed in on his open arms, let her snot ooze on to his shoulder. He rubbed her back.

‘Here. Here. Right, matey. I’m going to tell you something you need to hear. What Mark did to you was … well, it wasn’t good, was it. He’s left you pretty much unsupported, in a place that ain’t right for no baby to be born in. I never said it to Xanthe, matey, but this ain’t no place for a kid. Right now you needs you mum, I reckon.’

‘I can’t do that. I can’t go back there. She’ll – she’ll—’

‘She’ll probably give you a right telling off, innit. And you’ll have to take that, darlin. But then she’ll also keep you clean and warm and well and she’ll love that baby. Ain’t no mother going to turn her lickle girl away with a baby in her.’

‘But Mark—’