‘Whatever you’re having,’ he said coldly, and she turned to the corner of the room, disappearing from view. His eyes followed her, and he realised that the room ran the length of the building. On the fourth wall, behind the sofa, there were large digital screens, all of them switched off. He sat down next to Cris. Taking his hand, he saw a piece of the shattered glass lodged in his palm. Cris winced.

‘Sorry …’ he whispered, but Cris just shook his head.

Three china cups of green tea were placed on the low table between the sofas, and the director held hers in both hands, as though she needed to warm up – though it was quite warm in here. Karl was sweating. But then she put down her cup, and looked at each of them in turn.

‘I am sorry for your loss,’ she said. ‘There are no words to make it better.’

Suddenly, Karl was completely focused on her.

‘I should have invited you here before, to explain everything. I thought it would be better to give you all some time but … I know you’re angry,’ she said. ‘And, unfortunately, you are not the first.’

‘What?’ Karl’s voice came out sharp and loud. He felt Cris move beside him.

‘You are the first to ram the building with a car, though,’ the director smiled. ‘That’s all yours.’ She didn’t laugh, laughter would have been completely inappropriate, but there was warmth to her smile. Karl wasn’t going to let that change anything.

She paused and sipped her tea.

They were going to blame Kaz, he thought. She was going to say Kaz did something wrong, he knew it.

‘Don’t. You. Dare …’ he began, then stopped as Cris placed a hand on his knee.

He noticed the silence. The soundproofing. In this building full of newborn babies you never could hear anything beyond what was happening in your own room.

‘The truth is,’ she said, holding out her hands as though she wanted to hold theirs. They both ignored the gesture. ‘The truth is, in recent years we’ve had a small number of tragic deaths. I don’t know of a gentler way to put it. It is very unusual, but it happens. And we don’t know why.’

Karl swallowed. Was she saying that others had died?

‘What we do know is that, occasionally, a child has died in the pouch during the birthing process. We don’t think it’s because of the birth itself … They seem to be a little like cot deaths, in some respects, in that there’s no sign that anything is wrong.’

She leaned forward, looking first into Karl’s eyes, and then Cris’s. There was a slight shake in her voice. Karl swallowed, but returned her gaze.