The lack of sleep Noah had caused was now replaced with lack of sleep due to worry, guilt and sadness. Even curiosity plagued her. Louisa’s mind wouldn’t hush – the constant questions, theories and concerns over what was to come, all bashed against each other inside her skull. She’d also come up with various permutations of the same basic conversation that she could have with Oliver to try and dig further to get to the truth. Because there was a truth, buried somewhere, and she felt sure he hadn’t been straight with her up to this point. Not about everything.

The bedroom was dark. She lay with her eyes wide open, but seeing nothing. The streetlights had gone off at 1 a.m. – a recent council policy to save money that she’d welcomed because the one right outside their house managed to infiltrate their room despite the blackout blind’s attempts to block it. However, now, after being awake for two hours past the switch-off, she realised there was a certain safety about that glowing light – its absence and the resulting pitch-black surroundings now added to Louisa’s sense of insecurity and dread.

‘Can’t you sleep?’ Brian rolled over, placing his hand on Louisa’s arm.

‘Jesus! You could’ve given me some warning you were awake.’ Her shrill tone filled the room. The suddenness of his deep voice had encroached on her thoughts, setting her nerves jangling.

‘Sorry. Just been lying here for ages, waiting for sleep to take me. Clearly it’s not going to.’

Louisa turned her body towards him. ‘You thinking about Tiff?’

‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘Amongst other things.’

Louisa felt the mattress shift as he turned, flicked on the bedside light and then propped himself up on one elbow to face her.

‘A lot has gone on – too much to process, really,’ she said.

‘Do you trust me, Lou?’ His eyes crinkled and, in the lamplight, Louisa could see tears shining. Her eyes prickled too, the question catching her off-guard. Did she? She had done. Right up until she’d given birth to Noah. He’d never given her reason not to. It was only the texts to Tiff that had sparked her concern. But who was she to question him, to question whether he should be trusted? She was the one with the dark secret – hiding the skeleton, quite literally. Trust went both ways.

‘I’ve struggled, a bit. Lately.’ The honest answer escaped her mouth without much thought. She had to open up the channels of communication, had to at least attempt to sort out the problems. She wondered if he’d be as honest, and whether her honesty would continue if it got into deeper, scarier territory. Like her past. She watched his face, trying to read his expression. It remained pensive.