‘I’m sure. I’ve been keeping a log of each feed since yesterday. Look.’ Louisa walked into the lounge, Noah still in one arm, and grabbed the paper with her list of ticks, then marched back to Brian, holding it out as proof she’d been breastfeeding all day.

Louisa watched his face as she waited for an apology. What she saw instead was his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed hard, his brow furrowing. He looked up from the paper at Louisa, his eyes intense.

‘So?’ she asked.

‘How much have you slept today?’

Louisa’s stomach knotted. ‘Only that short time before you came home. Tiff was here before that. Why? What’s that got to do with anything?’

‘I just wondered if you’d been … dreaming, or if—’

‘Christ’s sake, Brian. No, why?’

He held out the paper towards her. ‘I’m not sure what you’ve done,’ he said.

Louisa snatched it from him. He flinched.

She stared at it. All the times were written down the side, as she’d marked them first thing this morning, just as she had yesterday. The tick for his first feed at 7 a.m. was there in pen.

Every other time since was blank.

No ticks.

‘That doesn’t … well, that’s wrong. It doesn’t make sense. I remember marking ticks alongside the times. I did. I remember doing it.’ Her own voice now took on a higher pitch, the shrillness almost matching that of Noah’s cries. She paced the kitchen, bouncing Noah vigorously as she strode back and forth.

‘Louisa. Stop.’ Brian stepped in front of her, preventing further movement. He pulled Noah from her arms. ‘Go and sit down.’

Louisa was light-headed, from the pacing and from over-breathing. She did as instructed. She felt faint. With her head hung low between her legs, Louisa tried to regain control. What was going on? If she remembered ticking the sheet of paper each time she’d fed the baby, then why weren’t they visible now? It was the same paper; no one else had touched it. She was losing her mind. That was the only conceivable explanation. The only thing Brian would believe too. And she couldn’t blame him for that.

The cries had ceased in the kitchen.

‘What are you doing?’ she shouted, her voice muffled because of her position. Brian didn’t answer. Then she heard a car start. Despite feeling woozy, Louisa leapt from the chair and ran to the window just in time to see the back of Brian’s car disappear down the road. Louisa grabbed her mobile and dialled him. It rang six times before the voicemail cut in. She dialled again. And again. Each time, her anxiety level increased a notch. When he still didn’t answer, Louisa rang Tiff.