I know I didn’t have to bring him in, and part of me didn’t want to; the thought of the doctor’s waiting room filled with sick and vulnerable people breathing all over my baby was not appealing, but I needed some fresh air. I heard the scratching again last night, after the baby had fed at three o’clock, the sound even more eerie in the thick darkness, and this morning, once Rav had left the house. ‘Yes, she’s passed us over to the health visitor,’ I say as breezily as I can, the jollity sounding forced to my ears. ‘She was happy with everything … she said it was all fine.’

‘I’m sure she did.’ The health visitor pushes her glasses back on the top of her head and rubs her hand over the baby’s soft, downy hair. ‘He’s lovely. No concerns from me at all. But how are you feeling?’

‘I’m fine. Busy. We’ve not long moved into our house, so I’ve been trying to get on top of that, but Mina is at nursery now so that helps.’ I quickly dress the baby in a fresh nappy. ‘Tired, obviously. But apart from that I’m good.’

‘Try not to overdo it,’ the health visitor says, scribbling in the baby’s red record book and handing it back to me with a smile.

‘Of course not,’ I say forcing a matching smile onto my own face. I move over to the other table and start tucking the baby back into his sleepsuit, as the health visitor moves on to the next tired, weary mum. As I lay the baby back into the pram, tucking a blanket over him despite the sunshine outside, a sound rips through the air that makes me freeze in my tracks. A scratch that makes my blood run cold. I hang over the pram, as if making sure the baby is comfortable, inhaling deeply before I muster the courage to turn around, to see where the noise is coming from.

It’s a zipper. I exhale, feeling sweat start to prickle under my arms, a hysterical bubble of laughter growing in my throat. It’s the zipper on a huge green changing bag, the woman bent over it rummaging for something. As she straightens up, I realize it is Karen, the other woman from the preschool.

‘Gosh, sorry,’ she says, pushing her hair out of her eyes. ‘I didn’t mean to make you jump. This bloody zip sounds like a plane taking off. You’re Mina’s mum, aren’t you? Tara said you might be joining us at the baby group on Friday?’