I let him hold me against his chest and stroke my forehead. I always have dreams like that when I’m worried about something. And I am worried about something. I’m going to have a baby, the most momentous, life-changing experience I can possibly imagine, and I’ve just had another seizure. No wonder I feel so weird and disoriented. No wonder I feel so scared.

—

They keep me in hospital overnight. More tests. More scans. I drift in and out of sleep, only waking when I hear the clank of a trolley, or when a nurse comes round to do my observations. I want to be at home with Ross, in my own bed. I can’t believe I missed his birthday evening—the trip to the cinema and the meal out I’d planned. But at the same time, I’m also glad to be here, being monitored. Because I’m terrified it’ll happen again. I know the dangers. The risks. And all that matters now is having my baby. A healthy baby, with no complications. Sleep drags me back down.

—

I’m discharged the next day, but it’s ages before we can actually leave because my phone’s gone missing. Ross says he distinctly remembers putting it in my bag when he drove me to A & E yesterday, but we can’t find it in the ward anywhere. We look through the cabinet next to my bed. We look in the bed and under it. We even take the pillowcases off, just in case it’s got caught up in one of them, but it’s nowhere to be seen. Ross fills in a lost-property form, but I don’t hold out much hope of it being found. Things get nicked in hospitals all the time.

When we finally get home, it’s as if I’ve been away for far longer than one night. The house feels different, smells different. Familiar but strange at the same time. Just like a dream. He follows me upstairs. I take each step slowly, gingerly, one hand steadying myself on the rail. I still feel shaky and tired. Ill at ease.

And I’m so pissed off about my phone. I know it can easily be replaced, but I can’t remember Mum and Dad’s mobile numbers off by heart—I stupidly never wrote them down anywhere—so I can’t let them know what’s happened. Although maybe it’s better they don’t find out straightaway. They’ve been looking forward to their week away for ages. I don’t want to spoil it by alarming them, and anyway, I’m fine now. I can tell them when they get home.

The first thing I see when I go upstairs is the emptiness of the spare room. The door is wide open and all of Catherine’s things have gone. I pause a moment, to take this in.