From the room down the hall she heard Steve trying again and again to put the baby down. He was useless, God help him. She moved closer, watched him a while in the dark: leaning against the mattress, inching the boy down and slowly, silently standing back up. She could see his fear and confusion. The crushing loss of hope as the baby lifted his head and bawled: a long, upward curling sound.

‘Steve.’ She’d told him he was on his own with this. She’d stuck to her guns until now, but in the name of sanity she was going to have to step in.

‘I don’t know what to do.’ He picked the child up and turned to face her. The baby was wailing in his arms. ‘I’ve been up half the night with him. He won’t—’

‘You need to feed him.’

‘What?’

She raised her voice above the noise. ‘Feed him. He needs his bottle.’

He frowned. ‘D’you think?’

She turned back down the hall. He called after her but she kept going to the kitchen, felt around in the dark for the light switch. By the time he followed her in there she’d got his bottle made up.

‘I should have thought of that.’ The baby was screaming, leaning backwards in rage, fists clenched.

She held the bottle out for him to take it.

‘Could you—?’ He held him towards her. ‘I need the bathroom, Mandy. Please?’

She gave him a long look. ‘We agreed I wouldn’t have to do this.’

‘I’ll be a couple of minutes, darl. Please.’

She held her arms out, weakened by the noise. ‘Two minutes,’ she said.

The child was beside himself, howling and thrashing, his body hot and rigid. She almost dropped him in the struggle to bring the bottle to his mouth, and when she tried again he turned his head away, angry, scared by the tension in her.

‘Come on.’ The teat brushed his lips and he turned his face to it; his breathing quickened. She shifted his position and tried again. ‘Come on now. That’s it.’

He began to gulp as soon as the milk was flowing and his body relaxed against her.

‘Good boy,’ she said. The relief was huge, like a storm passing. ‘That’s a good lad.’

Steve smiled at her from the kitchen door. His face was pale. ‘Well done,’ he said.

She ignored him. The baby was drinking steadily, the milk inching down inside the bottle.

‘You’re a natural,’ he said.

‘No, I’m not. I remember this from when Isla was a baby, that’s all. I know what a hungry baby sounds like.’

She heard him draw breath to reply, then a pause as he thought better of it.

‘Have you spoken to Ray about quitting?’

Steve nodded. ‘I called him yesterday. He didn’t take it too well. Tried to persuade me to stay in the job.’

‘Does he know?’ She gestured at the baby with her head.

‘Not yet. No.’

The boy’s eyes were closing. She put the bottle down on the counter top.