‘Just what Cain told us,’ Axel says. ‘But he was almost out to it. He barely remembers anything.’

I take a piece of pizza, strings of cheese hang.

‘Don’t talk about it if you don’t want to, Lina,’ Claire says. ‘We don’t want you to relive it all.’

‘No,’ I say. ‘It might help, I don’t know, get some clarity. Like therapy.’

I take my plate with three pieces then go and sit on the couch. The other two come over.

My appetite is fading again. ‘Someone just turned up with a gun, there were cameras in the house and he was tormenting me.’

Claire looks sad for a moment, I see a question taking shape in her mouth. ‘And you’re okay? Like, you know, with –’

‘The police have organised for me to see a counsellor.’

‘Good, it will help. Given… you know.’

Given I killed a man. Lots of people kill and it’s sanctioned, defensible. Then some people kill without reason, without cause or permission, like Trent Skelton. I’ve seen enough death in the ambulance to grow desensitised. But this is different. The fact Daniel was going to kill Cain and me doesn’t change it much. I’d had sex with him. I’d chosen him from all those smiling faces on the dating app. I wonder what would have happened if I’d chosen someone else? Among all the noise in my head – the conflicting ideas and voices – is a murmur: if he was a bad man, what does that mean for the baby? Could there be violence and meanness written into the genetic code of our child?

‘Do you want a drink? You must need something hard to take your mind off things?’ Claire says.

‘I’m not going to drink,’ I say. ‘But you two help yourselves.’ I remember then Claire is also pregnant. ‘Or just you, Axel.’

‘I might pass, I’m going to pick Cain up when he’s ready,’ Axel says. ‘You sure you don’t want something? It’ll be good to take the edge off. A stiff drink or a glass of wine.’

‘No, I’m not touching alcohol today, Axel.’

He glances at Claire. ‘If you change your mind it’s there. If you need a drink, or another good cry, or anything, just don’t hold back. You’ve been through hell.’

‘Thanks,’ I say. I reach for one of the other pieces of pizza on my plate, and when it gets to my mouth I think of something. Salami. It’s on those lists of things you shouldn’t eat when you’re pregnant. Being a better mother than my own mother starts now. It actually started years ago when I began taking the vitamins and iron, and looking after myself. I take the pizza away from my mouth. Claire is staring at me, she glances at Axel.

‘What is it?’ she says.

‘Oh, nothing.’