Jamie came home on his own that night. Although Kirsty’s life was not in any danger, she was being kept in. Jamie went and sat beside her before he left. He kissed her cheek, which was wet with tears. She wouldn’t open her eyes.

The doctors had talked to them about what had to happen next. Jamie listened to it all in a daze. There was no need to register the birth, but the hospital offered a simple funeral service if they wanted one. Kirsty had nodded yes, tears running down her cheeks, her whole body shuddering with grief. The service was going to take place in a couple of days.

Jamie walked up the front path. There was the skid mark in the oil. And it had rained a little while he was at the hospital. There were colours in the oil. A bright rainbow. He sat down on the wall and stared at it, at all the pretty colours. The childhood mantra ran through his brain: Richard of York gave battle in vain. Red orange yellow green blue indigo violet. Battle in vain.

In vain.

(What are you going to do about it?)

The next evening, after a whole day at the hospital, he came home and found that the oil was gone. After hefting the stone, considering what damage he might be able to do with it, he went inside, into his empty flat. He got into bed and stared at the ceiling. There was a terrible sound in his head, like a radio that wasn’t tuned in properly. A hissing sound with a hint of voices and music behind the white noise. He strained, trying to hear what the voices were saying, but he couldn’t make it out. Maybe they weren’t human voices he was hearing at all. It sounded more like the chatter of monkeys or birds. He was about to fall asleep when he heard the music start. The music from War of the Worlds. At first he thought that too was in his head, breaking through the wall of static, but no: it was definitely coming from downstairs.

He got out of bed and got dressed. He went outside and spent the night in his car.

‘Come on, sweetheart.’

He opened Kirsty’s door and offered her his hand.

‘I’m not an invalid,’ she said.

‘I know. I was just–’

‘Yes yes. I know.’

As they walked up the path she kept to the left, warily eyeing the patch where she had slipped. They got inside and Jamie offered her a cup of tea. She looked at the door of the nursery. It was firmly closed.

‘I’m going to bed.’

‘I’ll come with you.’

‘Whatever.’