‘You’re not drinking?’ Ivan asked, as she put the drinks down on the table he had selected. ‘What is wrong with you? Are you sick? Oh shit, no. I can see it in your face. You are pregnant. How long? Poor darling, you’re pregnant and you’re not happy about it. Not one little bit. Come on, lady. Sit down and tell me why this makes you unhappy. A baby is a blessing. Or maybe it isn’t. How would I know? Either way, you have choices, yes? If you don’t want this baby, you don’t have to have it. That’s why we have abortion. So that women who don’t want to have children aren’t forced to do it. Your tummy is not even showing yet, so you have plenty time to make your mind up. This is not a big problem, lady. I promise you.’

When Clodagh tried to speak, she started crying instead. Big, gulping sobs that were as much about Nick and Tara and Simon and Bella and everyone else who had ever died or lost someone they loved, as they were about her pregnancy. Beside her, Ivan patiently sipped his pint and waited for her to pull herself together.

‘Sorry,’ she said, when she was finally able to get a word out. ‘It’s been one hell of a week, you know?’

‘That’s what you call an understatement, no?’

Clodagh snorted.

‘I suppose so. Oh God, Ivan. How did you guess? I haven’t told a soul yet. Not even Adam knows. But all you have to do is take one look at me and you guessed right away. How are you able to do that?’

‘My sister, Lucija, she has three children. Each time she got pregnant she looked just like you in the early days.’

‘How do I look exactly?’

‘Haunted.’ Ivan took a self-satisfied sip of lager, clearly pleased with himself.

‘Two people I know have died this week,’ Clodagh said. ‘I discovered both bodies. Don’t you think that’s why I look haunted?’

‘No.’ Ivan shook his head. ‘You look haunted because of the pregnancy. Unless you’re now going to pretend to me that I’m wrong? Which would be a lie, and I don’t like it when my friends lie to me.’

‘That’s a bit rich.’

He scowled at her.

‘What do you mean?’

‘You know exactly what I mean.’

‘Maybe.’ He drank some more beer. ‘But we won’t talk about that yet. First, you must tell me about your baby and what you are planning to do.’

Baby. Clodagh felt a mix of emotions when he said the word. Fear, anxiety. Something else, too. Hope. She’d spent the last few days convincing herself the collection of cells inside her womb were something tiny that she could get rid of whenever she wanted. Except she already knew that wasn’t what she wanted.