‘Here, get undressed and I’ll be right back,’ she says, handing me a big enough towel to cover myself when I have taken my clothes off.

‘Thank you,’ I say, waiting until she has shut the door.

I’ve learned a lot about myself over the past weeks. I know I need to stop pinning my existence on my condition. That I have to break free of its shackles and realise that, beyond it, there is a life I could be living if I allow myself the opportunity to embrace it. Better relationships with my daughter, my friends, myself. I have a long way to go, but right now, I can’t wait to get this fucking hair off my body.

‘Ready?’ Maron says, tapping on the door.

‘Oh yes,’ I reply. ‘I’m ready.’

Beth

I find myself at Ross’ front door, seriously considering not knocking on it. He might presume I am crazy and turning up for more weird sex. But Risky will kill me if I don’t report back with at least having spoken to him. So, I do three gentle knocks. Tommy is asleep in the carrier on my chest.

Ross opens the door. He looks at Tommy.

‘Oh God, it’s not mine, is it?’

‘No, I … he …’ I realise he is joking. We both know there are multiple reasons why that cannot be the case. The timing, obviously. Not to mention the entry point.

‘Hi,’ I say, nervously. ‘Sorry, I know this is weird, but I just wanted to check on Lauren. I haven’t heard from her since the wedding, she’s not posted anything on Instagram. I just wanted to make sure everything was OK and presumed you’d know?’

‘That’s very sweet, thank you. Come in.’ We head into the living room. He tells me to take a seat. I choose not to sit on the sofa, but I do notice a little smudge on it that looks like someone has tried to clean a few times. It was almost definitely caused by my breast milk.

‘Can I get you anything?’ he asks me, making himself a drink from the bar in the corner. Like a lawyer in his office in an Eighties TV show.

‘No thanks, better not.’

‘He’s cute, what’s his name?’ he asks.

‘Tommy. He’s a nice baby. I’m definitely going to keep him.’

Usually that makes people laugh. Not this time.

‘Well, cherish every moment,’ he says, looking down. I move on.

‘So, about Lauren, is she OK? Do you know where she is?’

‘Yup, she’s upstairs. She hasn’t come down since Sunday. It’s normal when bad things happen – she takes a lot of solace from her childhood room. She shared it with Verity.’

Verity. Why do I know that name?

‘My other daughter. She died when she was a little girl.’