‘Nothing, Mummy,’ she said.

‘Did you push him, Hannah? Did you push your brother down the stairs?’

She reached the bottom step and considered me. ‘Nope. He fell,’ she said with a shrug. ‘It wasn’t my fault.’

And then I did it. I slapped her. I had never once raised a hand to either of my children before but everything seemed to boil up inside me in that moment. My handprint left a livid red mark on her cheek. ‘You little bitch!’ I shouted. I was completely beside myself, all I could think about was the fact Toby could have died. ‘Don’t you ever touch my child again. Do you hear me?’ I was screaming so loudly I didn’t hear Doug’s key in the door.

‘Beth?’ He stood in the hall in his coat, a look of horror on his face. ‘Beth. What the hell are you doing?’

The second she saw her father, Hannah began to cry. ‘Mummy hit me, Daddy! I didn’t do anything! Toby was sad because Mummy was gone so long, she went to get her wine and she never came back – and then Toby fell and Mummy hit me! She hit me and I don’t know why!’

I shook my head in disbelief and turned to Doug. ‘She’s lying. I was only gone a moment. She pushed him!’

His eyes still wide with shock, Doug bent down and took Toby from me, gathering him in his arms. ‘OK, little man,’ he soothed, ‘it’s OK, it’s OK now.’

‘No!’ I shouted at him, ‘No it’s not OK! Nothing is OK! She pushed our son down the stairs!’

His gaze fell to the bottle of wine that in my panic had fallen to the floor. ‘You’re drinking?’ he said. ‘You’re looking after our children and you’re drinking?’

‘Don’t you fucking dare say this is my fault,’ I said, my voice shaking. ‘I’ve had one drink. I was gone less than a minute!’

I sank to my knees and pulled Toby away from Doug’s arms. ‘Darling,’ I said, ‘tell Daddy what happened. Did Hannah push you, honey?’

But Toby was too hysterical to answer. ‘Want Daddy,’ was all he said, turning back to his father and burying his face in Doug’s chest. ‘Want my daddy!’ Meanwhile, Hannah’s own sobs rose to fever pitch.

I got up and went to Hannah. ‘What’s wrong with you? What the fuck is wrong with you?’ My anger and guilt and fear mingled, fuelled by the wine I’d drunk.

I felt Doug’s hands grip my shoulders as he pulled me away from her. ‘Stop it, Beth!’ he shouted. ‘This isn’t helping. Go and calm down, I’ll deal with it.’

I looked at Toby, still clutching Doug and sobbing, the satisfied glint in Hannah’s eyes, the puddle of wine on the carpet, and ran from the house.

13

London, 2017