‘I can’t remember, Sal, shock, I guess… actually, at first I thought it was one of the lads playing a joke… but then… he had information. He knew about the night I met his mother, so… but I still didn’t believe it, which is why I asked for the DNA test… which is why I didn’t mention it to you.’

If Tom squeezes that mug any tighter it will break.

‘Why did she wait so long to tell him?’

‘I don’t know, Sal, I never asked her… maybe his age or something. I don’t know.’

Tom looks exhausted from answering questions. God love him. I’m exhausted from asking them. Every day there’s something new, some little piece of this sour apple that gets peeled away. Maybe one day we’ll get to the core.

I didn’t intend going to bed so early but when I rested my head on the pillow; bam, I was gone.

The next thing I know, Aaron is tapping me on the face trying to wake me up. Beside me the thunderous grunt of Tom’s snoring echoes through the room. Daylight is creeping through the cracks in the curtain. I decide not to take Aaron into the bed beside me, instead I lift him in my arms and go downstairs.

The silence is beautiful, the haze of mist covering the back garden mystical. Aaron sits on my hip looking out the window with me. He doesn’t ask any questions, just stares at the morning melting into the day in front of his wide-open eyes. His tiny hand wraps around my neck holding on. Reminding me to hold on. The clock says six thirty, we have an hour before all hell breaks loose.

‘What would you like to do, Aaron? Would you like to play with Mammy?’

‘Trains.’ Aaron points to the playroom.

So I swing him up in the air and say, ‘Trains it is.’

I’m sitting on the floor with Aaron pushing his Thomas the Tank collection in every direction, paying no attention to me. I’ve noticed that about him, the way he gets locked into his own world, ignores everything around him until someone comes along and breaks in. It used to send him crazy. There was a time he wouldn’t even let Cian play alongside him but thankfully, thanks to his time in the crèche, that’s changed.

‘Choo-choo, Aaron,’ I say, trying to join in, pushing a train across the carpet but he grabs it off me and holds it close to his chest. I decide to leave Aaron on his own, the way he likes it and go have a shower.