Donna kissed the woman’s cheek and said, ‘I met a girl, gave her a lift home to East Ham and stayed on at her place for me tea!’

‘You what! Come away in and I’ll make you a drink and then you can tell me all about it.’

Donna sat at her scrubbed pine table and looked around the kitchen while Dolly made the coffee. She had never really had fun in this room, not like the fun she had experienced in East Ham this evening. The children had regaled her with stories of their doings, of their trips to the park and their nana’s house. About their little wants and dreams. She had envied Caroline so much as she had made them get into the bath and then their pyjamas. Her own home seemed sterile by comparison, overclean and without a crease anywhere. She knew that if she walked into her lounge, her drawing room, dining room or conservatory, there wouldn’t be a thing out of place. No evidence that people actually lived in this house . . .

For the first time in years she saw in her mind’s eye the baby she had lost. Its perfectly formed body lying in the bed. The deep red of the blood as it seeped from her body on to the white sheets, surrounding the small foetus like a crimson blanket. Georgio picking it up gently with kitchen roll and placing it in a small shoebox, then holding her hand as they waited for the ambulance.

The strain of the day came over her. She took a deep breath to stem the tears, but they came nonetheless. Big wracking sobs that made her ribs ache and her heart sore. She felt the hot saltiness as they ran down her face and into her mouth. Felt Dolly’s arms go around her, hold her to her big bosom and murmur endearments to her.

‘What happened love? Is it Georgio - did he upset you?’

She cried harder, remembering the hospital, the lights and the operating theatre. The knowledge that all her chances were now gone, that it was all over. Sadness mingled with a kind of relief. Georgio’s disappointed face, his tears as he had held his son’s small body. She saw her parents’ funeral, and her own wedding day, all inexplicably linked somehow. Then she saw the smiling faces of Michael Joseph and Chivonne, covered in ketchup and smelling of baby sweat and the dirt from the floor of the visiting room in Parkhurst.

Finally she saw Georgio saying to her, ‘Get me out of here.’

And then she knew she would do whatever he asked.

She owed him that much.

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Eleven