‘No!’ A laugh bubbles out, surprising even me. ‘I’ve just got ready! Give me the baby, I’ll put him down.’ I take him, holding him close for a moment before laying him in the cot. ‘Won’t be long,’ I whisper, hearing Rav saying goodnight to Mina, the bedroom door closing until only a small gap remains. I meet him on the landing, let him take my hand and lead me down the stairs. Everything feels wonderfully normal for the first time in months – or at least, it would if I could erase the memory of Rav and Naomi, the words postpartum psychosis hanging in the air between them. I am making a concerted effort tonight to not mention the house, Agnes, or any of the strange things that have happened.

‘What time did you book the table for?’ I ask. Rav has booked a table at a pub nearby, one that was a favourite of ours before we had the baby.

‘Eight o’clock,’ he says. I glance at the clock on the sitting-room wall. It’s already seven thirty.

‘What time will Avó be here? She’s cutting it a bit fine.’ I would have thought she would have arrived long before now, in time to help – or rather interfere – with the children’s bedtime routines. I expected her to arrive before dinner, bringing food for Rav with her, as she has done so often before. She doesn’t approve of my ‘bland’ cooking.

‘Oh, Avó couldn’t do tonight. She’s annoyed with me, of course, for wanting to go out on her bridge night. She can’t let her partner down apparently.’ Rav shrugs and opens the door to the understairs cupboard, rooting around for his new trainers.

‘Avó isn’t coming?’ I raise my eyes to the landing, to the rooms where the children are sleeping. ‘I thought you said leave it to you. Bloody hell, Rav, who have you got to look after the children?’ Please don’t let it be Naomi.

‘Evie,’ he says, finally pulling his head out of the cupboard, trainers dangling from his fingers. ‘Evie said she was free and she’s looking for some extra money. She’s saving to go travelling, Naomi said.’