‘I know what you’re doing.’ I don’t let her say hello, the words tumbling out in a landslide of icy granite. Naomi is silent on the other end as the words hit her.

‘What?’ she says eventually. ‘Allie, what are you talking about?’

‘I said, I know what you’re doing. I won’t let you take them!’ I shout into the phone, the wind whistling through the trees, whipping my hair across my face. I hear a low rumble through the thick cloud that has gathered, hiding the moon from sight.

‘Allie?’ Her voice is faint, the growing wind making it difficult to hear. ‘I don’t know what you mean … you’re scaring me. Where are you?’

‘I know you told Rav that I was crazy, that the children weren’t safe. I know that you were the one who put the idea of postpartum psychosis in his head, and I know it was you who told him to take the children away from me.’

There is silence at the other end of the phone, and I know I am right. ‘Allie, where are you? Where are the children? Are they safe?’

‘It doesn’t matter anymore.’ The first splatters of rain hit my shoulders, my hair, my face. ‘I know what you’re doing. I’ll die before I let you.’

‘Allie, I don’t know what you’re talking about. No one wants to take the children; we both just want you to be safe.’

‘They are safest with me!’ I shriek into the phone. ‘I have to protect them from Agnes. From all of you.’

‘Allie, stay where you are, I’m coming over.’

I hang up without replying. Of course, she’s coming over. The panic subsides and all at once I feel calm. Resigned, almost. Turning back to the house I look up at the windows. Dark. Rav has forgotten to leave Mina’s night light on. There is only one way that this can end, and as the thought forms in my mind I feel a strange sense of acceptance. I have to save the children. I have to take them first, to save them from Naomi, to save them from Agnes Gowdie. Stepping across the patio I leave the rain outside, heading into the kitchen. The heating hasn’t come on, it’s too warm given that it’s May, but I am cold, right down to my bones. I don’t bother to turn the light on, enjoying the peace that the darkness brings, the shadows that flicker in the corners of the room. There is a murmur from the baby monitor and then a rustling as the baby moves, but no cries come, not yet.