‘Is there … negative stuff?’ I didn’t know how to ask. ‘About our past? Will people still help?’

Imogen rubbed my shoulder and smiled sadly at me.

‘You know, you could have told us,’ she said. ‘We would have supported you.’

‘No, I couldn’t. I tried once before—in England—and they threw me out of the group.’

Mentioning it brought back the hot flush of shame. Initially, the group had welcomed me, an Aussie in Manchester with a little baby, and then a few months later, when I told them about Archie, they were so kind. But that night, one of them must have read an article online. She texted me to say I had to leave the group. I called two of the others the next day and they refused to speak to me. When I saw them at the shops, they crossed the road to avoid me. These women had been my only friends in Manchester. For days, I sat in the lounge room with baby Bella, crying in front of the TV, so lonely but unable to leave the house for fear of seeing them. When we ran out of food and nappies, I drove to a supermarket in another suburb. The shops were filled with mothers pushing prams, drinking coffee, giving their toddlers a babyccino. I was surrounded by them. And completely isolated.

‘We wouldn’t have done that,’ Imogen reassured me. ‘We’ve all suffered through our own upsets.’

‘Once you read it all online, you’d always be wondering.’

‘I wouldn’t, Lexie.’

Imogen pulled me into a hug. Behind her, the twins were playing with blocks in my living room. All I ever wanted was for Bella to have friends and playmates, normal relationships outside our screwed-up family.

One of the twins screeched and the other bolted over to Imogen.

‘He bit me,’ the boy whined.

‘And what did you do to him, Matthew?’ Imogen asked as she stroked his hair.

‘Nothing.’

‘My foot,’ yelled Thomas from the floor. ‘He stood on my foot.’

Imogen marched Matthew back to the rug to sort out the tiff and reconcile the twins over the blocks. Resting my head on the cool marble of the kitchen benchtop, I simultaneously wished Bella was here with them and that the twins would stop playing with Bella’s things and get out of my house.

‘Why don’t you look at this book?’ Imogen had moved Thomas to the sofa. ‘It’s the story of Snow White and the Seven Dwarves. See if you count all the dwarves.’

‘Can Thomas read that?’ I asked.

‘No, but he’s good at counting.’ Imogen came back and sat on the kitchen stool next to me. ‘Apparently Sammy can read.’