He gestured over to the comfy seats that lined the edges of the lobby.

She nodded, selecting a seat as near to the lifts as possible. They all faced the display, the thousands of photographs of newborn babies delivered here. Exactly what she’d wanted to avoid. But she couldn’t help it, she started seeing their faces, their curled hands, those little hats in colours selected to match the pouch they’d been carried in. She stood and stepped closer, drawn in against her will. Some of their faces were scrunched up against the world, others’ eyes wide and alert, eager to see. Some had their mouths open in a wail but many looked content, peaceful, sleepy. There were babies with dark brown eyes and blue eyes and hazel-green, blonde hair and tight black curls, lying on saris and knitted blankets and grandparents’ knees. Suddenly it hit her again, as a punch to her chest.

She heard the smooth swish of a lift opening and turned, blinked. He looked pale. Head down, he rushed towards the emergency exit that she was fairly sure no one was supposed to use.

Eva swallowed, tried to push her feelings away and took a deep breath. Now was not the time to fall apart. The receptionist was talking on the phone, stroking his pouch with every few words. She turned and without rushing, without making a sound, walked towards the emergency exit Quentin had disappeared through. He’d left the door slightly ajar. She pushed it. He was about three steps to her left – she could only see his back. He was leaning into the corner, his head hanging low, his hands pressed against the wall above his head. By his feet was a puddle of vomit, the liquid sparkling where it caught the sun.

‘Please no …’ he was saying, over and over again.

Chapter 8

‘THEY’VE DELIVERED THE baby,’ James said.

‘So it’s OK then?’ asked Eva. ‘Just delayed?’

‘No, no … you don’t understand.’ He brushed the back of his hand against his lips, then turned away from her and leaned his head against the wall. ‘They’ve brought it back here, I mean. It’s been brought back here. The … the body.’

‘What?’

‘They’re expecting me to do the autopsy.’

‘You can’t mean …’

James groaned again and his shoulders heaved. Eva turned away, repulsed by the sound. She stepped back. He was taking large breaths. Gulps of air that he must have been hoping would calm his stomach. Reaching a hand forward, she touched his shoulder in what she hoped would be a comforting, non-threatening gesture.