‘No,’ he shouted. ‘No, no. NO.’ She tried to pick him up and comfort him, but he twisted in her arms and kicked and scratched her, hitting her with his fists. When she put him down, he ran from wall to wall, banging into them so hard she was worried he would hurt himself. She called to him, sang to him, shouted at him to stop, but none of it made any difference. While it lasted, he was totally unreachable.

Eventually – like a storm – it faded. She picked him up and held him for a long time. He said nothing. He lay motionless, eyes closed, in her lap.

It had happened a few times since. She wondered whether it was something she was doing, but she couldn’t think what. She never shouted at him – there was enough misery in here without her adding to it – and constantly told him how much she loved him. It was simply his temperament.

Same mum, same situation, two totally different children.

And she loved them both the same. For different things and in different ways, but she loved them with the same terrifying intensity.

Leo frowned. ‘I’m thirsty,’ he said again.

Maggie reached for the jug and poured some water into one of the plastic cups. She handed it to Leo and he drank it.

‘So,’ she said. ‘My little boy is three years old. I can’t believe it. You’re growing up so fast.’

She didn’t have a present. With Seb, she had begged the man for something to give him. He had given nothing; instead he had taken him away. She had often wondered if her begging had brought it about in some way – for a time she had been sure it had, and the guilt had tortured her – maybe, if she’d kept quiet, he would not have even known it was Seb’s birthday.

So this time, she said nothing. In the last few weeks she had acted as though everything was normal. The man came with breakfast and dinner. Sometimes he came in his blue bathrobe and sometimes he left her alone.

She never mentioned Leo’s birthday.

He never mentioned Leo’s birthday.

And she thought, maybe, hopefully, that he had forgotten. And if having no present for her son was the price of that? Well, it was a price she would happily pay. And when she got out of here she would make it up to Leo with all the presents money could buy.

2

She heard the scraping noise. She beckoned to Leo and he came and sat on her lap. The door opened and the man came in.

He put a tray on the floor. Two bowls of cornflakes. A new jug of water.

He gestured at the old one. ‘Leave that by the door later,’ he said.