He smiled up at her, his face red with the effort, then stepped out of his underpants and held up his arms to be lifted into the water.

As she picked him up she held him against her body. She loved the feeling of his skin against hers; it had been the same with Seb and Leo and it brought back memories of her other sons, of Max’s brothers.

It reminded her she had lost them.

And it reminded her she was going to lose Max.

She started to cry. She blinked away the tears. Max didn’t need to see her crying. She sank down and dipped her head under the surface, washing her face clean, then sprang out, water dripping from her face, and grinned at him.

‘Surprise! It’s the bath monster!’

He giggled, and started to splash water at her. ‘No! I’m the bath monster!’

‘You are,’ Maggie replied. ‘You’re my little bath monster.’

He splashed her again and she shrieked in mock terror. ‘Oh! Stop! Please, Bath Monster, please!’

He erupted in laughter and splashed harder. She remembered doing the same thing with her parents; for a child of Max’s age there was something irresistible about splashing or tickling or pushing your parents over. It was a kind of subversion of the natural order, and she remembered finding it delicious.

Max clearly did, too, and she let him throw and kick and push as much water at her as he wanted.

When he had had enough and the water was getting cold, she pulled the plug and climbed out of the bath. She reached for Max.

‘No,’ he said. ‘I want to stay in.’

‘OK.’ She picked up the towel – the man left one by the door, a thinning, faded-pink scrap – and dried herself. ‘Let me know when you’re ready.’

She dressed, running her hands over the dark hairs on her thighs and lower legs. It had been a few months since the man brought her a safety razor and she had shaved her legs. She never asked for one, but from time to time he left one, along with a bar of soap, on the food tray.

The first time she had ignored it – God, it seemed so long ago, so much of her life had been spent between these four walls – but the next bath day it was there again.

The man gestured at it as he left the room, then caught her eye. His face was expressionless, but it looked like he was struggling to keep it that way. She got the impression that underneath it was a subdued rage.

He pointed at the light bulb.

Use the razor, he said. In fact, I’ll watch. I shouldn’t have left it with you. Never know what you might do. I wasn’t thinking.