Aurelia lifts Coco against her chest and rubs her back, smiling. Poor Gaia. She looks crushingly disappointed, and quickly Aurelia reads the situation, and what she must do. ‘Come here, my love.’

Gaia looks downcast. She watches glumly, suddenly on the verge of tears, as her mother places her sleeping sister back into her basket like the kind of occasionally screaming statuette that she really is. When Aurelia lies down on the floor, placing a cushion beneath her head and resting both hands on her still-rounded belly, Gaia is puzzled.

‘What are you doing?’

‘Role play. We’re going to pretend that I’m a newborn baby and you’re the mum.’

Gaia’s eyes widen. She relishes this game, reaching at once for her nurse outfit and administering all kinds of ointments and bandages, before remembering that her mumma did none of this for baby Coco.

‘OK,’ she tells Aurelia a few minutes in. ‘Your name is Dora.’

‘Good choice,’ Aurelia affirms.

‘Shush. You can’t speak, remember?’

Aurelia obediently folds her lips inward.

‘And now, baby Dora, it’s time to drink your milk.’

She fashions a bottle out of a jam jar and holds it to her mother’s lips for a few seconds. ‘Now it’s time to play.’

Aurelia doesn’t move. Gaia stares.

‘Dora can’t play,’ Aurelia whispers, cupping her hands against her mouth. ‘She’s just been born so she can’t walk yet. And she has to sleep for about twenty hours a day.’

‘Oh,’ Gaia says. ‘How long is twenty hours?’

‘A very long time.’

‘Well, in that case, can I read you a story, baby Dora?’

Aurelia smiles. Gaia pulls out a book she knows back to front and sits down beside her, legs crossed, before patiently reading the story and pointing at the pictures. She asks questions to which Aurelia does not respond, then catches herself. ‘Ah yes, you’re just a baby, Dora. You can’t talk yet. That’s OK. It just means you’re a good listener.’

Gaia finishes the story and moves on to another, and then another, settling into her role as mother by parroting what Aurelia often says to both her daughters. There, sweetheart. Do you need another blankie? You’re so special to me. I love you. I’ll take care of you.

Aurelia can hear Coco begin to move in her wicker basket, the familiar snuffling and grunting sounds that signal she’s not settling. Aurelia knows she will need to get off the floor and tend to her, most likely pick her up and cuddle her, but she’s so tired, and the floor is surprisingly comfortable, especially with the numerous blankets and Sherpa throws that Gaia has sourced from the blanket box and placed upon her. She wishes she could sleep, have a little nap. She wills Coco to settle, just for five more minutes, but she’s starting to cry.

‘What are you doing?’ a voice says.