‘Allie, the door was ajar. It wasn’t latched. After you called me this morning, I was worried about you. When I got here and saw that the door wasn’t closed properly, I thought that something might have happened to you.’

I had forgotten that I called Naomi, had forgotten my panic on opening the door earlier. The image of bones tied neatly in the branches of the yew tree comes to mind and I have to fight to suppress a shudder. Naomi reaches out, her hand coming to rest on my shoulder. ‘I’m sorry,’ she says. ‘I shouldn’t have let myself in. I thought … I was worried, that’s all. Look at you, you’re shaking. Come and sit down and you can tell me about what you found.’

Naomi holds her arms out to take the baby, but I ignore her, stepping towards the living room. My ankle throbs as I press my weight onto it and for a moment my vision goes cloudy, nausea causing my stomach to lurch and roll.

‘Let me take him, come on, Al. You’re in pain.’

Reluctantly I pass the baby to Naomi, my arms feeling empty and cold without the heft of his weight. She presses her cheek to his head before gently taking him through to where the Moses basket sits empty next to the fireplace. As she lays him down, I feel an itching urge to move the basket away from the chimney, but before I can Naomi takes my elbow and helps me hobble to the sofa. ‘There.’ She arranges my foot on some cushions, ignoring my wincing as her fingers brush my sore ankle. ‘Let me get you some tea. Do you have anything to bandage this up?’

‘There’s a first aid kit in the medicine cupboard in the bathroom.’ I have no choice but to let Naomi bustle around, taking care of me. Now the shock of her appearing in the doorway with the baby in her arms after I thought someone had taken him has faded, having her here comes as something of a relief. Mina scrambles up on to the sofa next to me, her thumb going to her mouth and I lean down and kiss the top of her hair, smelling the apple shampoo I used to wash her hair last night.

‘Here you go, I brought you some painkillers too.’ Naomi hands me the packet of Co-codamol I brought home from the hospital and crouches at my feet, the green first aid box in her hands.

‘Aren’t these a bit strong?’ I turn the packet over in my hands, remembering the thick, suffocating drowsiness that came over me the last time I took them, sitting at the kitchen table. The vision, dream, memory that followed. I tuck the packet down the side of the sofa, feeling the sharp corner of the box against my thigh.