Choking on the chilli in the beef salad, I took a big gulp of champagne and shook my head quickly. Marty and I hadn’t talked about it again, but I knew he thought that once we’d settled in Merrigang it would be time for more. That was why he’d bought the huge house; he pictured it filled with children. In the early days, he’d said he wanted four gorgeous kids who looked just like me. I wanted two with the best parts of both of us—his easy charm and quick mind, my enthusiasm and interest in the world. And Bella did have the best of both of us, along with our stubborn determination. If a child could arrive fully formed at age ten, perhaps I’d have another, but I couldn’t go through the terror of pregnancy and birth again.

‘Did you hear about the baby left in the hot shed in America?’ Tara asked, heaping a spoonful of pad thai into her bowl. Before she could finish off the noodles completely, I reached for the plate, letting the conversation drift around me.

Julia patted her bump protectively and brushed at her eyes.

‘The baby died,’ Tara continued. ‘What a dumb fuck. The father said he put the baby in the shade but it was inside a metal shed. Seriously, how could he not know about dehydration?’

The plate of pad thai slipped out my hand and crashed against my wineglass. I managed to catch it before it fell, but the edge of the plate knocked a bowl of rice into my lap.

‘Sorry, sorry.’

I concentrated on mopping up the rice with my napkin. Tara passed me hers, and as I took it my hand brushed against the wineglass; this time it tipped over. Thankfully, the wine spilt towards me and onto my tunic, rather than in the direction of Tara or Julia.

Breathe. Keep it together.

‘I’ll just … I’ll just go to the bathroom,’ I stammered. ‘Which way is it?’

I couldn’t look at them.

‘I’ll show you,’ Tara said, standing up and moving around the table.

No, not Tara. I turned quickly so they wouldn’t see the tears. ‘It’s this way.’ She weaved between the tables as I focused on the carpet.

‘I’ll be fine. I can see it now.’

‘That’s okay. I need to go to the loo anyway.’

In the toilet cubicle, I brushed off the rice, blew my nose and dabbed at my eyes. I can’t even leave early because Tara is dropping me home. Taking my time, I hoped that Tara would finish and go back to the table without me, but I could hear her waiting by the sink. She was so quick to judge without bothering to learn the details. If Tara found out, would she behave the same way to me as those mothers had in Manchester?