The smell of cooking bacon wafted upstairs. Then a shout came from the kitchen.

‘Come and get it!’

Louisa reached the top of the stairs with Noah in her arms just as Emily disappeared down them and rounded into the kitchen.

‘Wow, Mum,’ Emily said with a stuffed mouth as Louisa walked in. ‘Why don’t you ever cook breakfasts like this for me?’

‘I didn’t know I had all this in the fridge,’ Louisa said, ignoring Emily’s question as she took in the three plates all holding a full-English breakfast. Damn him. She didn’t want to be grateful, but she couldn’t help herself. ‘Thanks, Oliver, this is great.’

‘I took a wild guess that you didn’t get many breakfasts cooked for you, so I thought I’d knock this up.’ Oliver grinned.

‘Can you cook for us every day?’ Emily said, tucking into the fried bread.

‘I suspect you couldn’t afford my services,’ Oliver said.

Emily laughed. It was a rare sound, Louisa realised. She was even being nicer to Louisa, which was a refreshing change from her behaviour of late.

After Emily bolted out of the door for school, and Oliver had loaded the dishwasher, they sat in the lounge, a morning programme on TV playing quietly. Oliver had Noah in his arms. Louisa’s tummy fluttered at the sight. She looked away.

‘Why don’t you close your eyes, Lou-Lou? Relax.’

The words felt strangely hypnotic, and with a giddiness that Louisa took to be tiredness, her eyes fell shut.

A door banged, and Louisa’s eyes flew open. Brian was standing in the doorway, looking into the lounge.

‘Oh, Brian,’ she said, her hand on her breastbone to still her rapid heart rate. ‘What are you doing home?’ Louisa sat up. She’d fallen asleep in the feeding chair. She had no clue as to how long she’d been out. Her eyes travelled to the sofa. She froze.

Oliver was lying full length with Noah asleep on his chest. His bare chest.

She sucked in air as she tried to say something, but failed. Brian came into the room, and, without saying anything to Louisa, moved alongside Oliver and bent down.

‘Hey, little man,’ he said.

Louisa’s held breath released itself. He didn’t sound mad. Oliver moved, then, and shifted Noah. He’d obviously been asleep too.

‘Sorry, Brian. Goodness, it’s surprising how tiring looking after a baby can be.’ He sat up, handing a floppy Noah to Brian.

‘Why are you home so early?’ Louisa tried to take Brian’s focus off Oliver. Why didn’t he have his shirt on?

‘It’s not early, it’s six, the same as always,’ Brian said.

‘What? It can’t be.’ Louisa shot out of the chair. She was groggy from sleep, and for a moment wondered if she were having another dream. Another hallucination.