I sink back against the pillow, the final sentence in the message lodging like a stone in my stomach. Things never go well when someone says, we need to talk. I lie still for a moment, the events of a few hours ago heavy on my mind, and I think I smell rosemary in the air again. I feel rested physically, but my mind still feels drained. I had the dream, the vision, whatever it is again, after a few nights’ respite. It’s as if the moment I let myself sleep I am back there, creeping along the hallway to that darkened room, the thick scent of fear and something else, something darker in the air. Me, but not me. I shiver, despite the stuffy heat that fills the room, sliding out of bed to throw open the window. I lean out, the sun warm on my cheeks as I breathe in deep lungfuls of fresh, country air. Something splashes in the pond, ripples casting out across the water and the trees at the bottom of the garden shake their branches. I can hear the whispering rustle of the leaves, thick and glossy green, and I tense as the faint cry of a child carries on the slight breeze. Feeling on edge, I pull my head and shoulders back inside, scrubbing my hands over the tops of my arms. I pull on a thin T-shirt and a summer skirt with an elasticated waist from before I had the baby and move downstairs, snatching up my phone from the bedside table as I go. My mouth is dry, my tongue feeling too big, and I head to the kitchen, downing a cold glass of water. My breasts ache and I stuff a pad into each cup of my bra. I didn’t feed the baby, didn’t even wake when he cried, and when I check the fridge the last of the pumped milk is gone. The baby. I have to call Avó, make sure he is OK.

She answers on the first ring, as if she has been waiting for my call. ‘Avó, it’s me. Allie. I just wanted … is everything …’ I can’t get the words out. My thirst is gone, but I don’t know what explanation Rav has given her for dropping the baby with her.

‘It’s fine, fine, all fine,’ she singsongs down the line. I think I can hear the baby gurgling when she says, ‘He’s sleeping. Such a good boy. So like Ravi. He is just like his daddy, that thick, dark hair. So handsome. No one would ever guess from looking that you are his mother.’