Rav is gone when I wake in the morning, the headache still there, pulsing at my temples as the baby begins to murmur in his crib. I didn’t think I would sleep again after the dream, but I did, deeply and thankfully dreamlessly. Now, I feel groggy and disappointed that Rav didn’t wake me before he left. I wanted to tell him about what I saw in the woods. My eyes go to the dresser, combing the piles of junk that have accumulated on the top for the feather and keys, my palm remembering the weight of the stone when the baby shouts, a sharp, angry yell to remind me that he is the priority, not a figure in the woods, not junk found under the floorboards.

The morning is another bright and sunny one, the sun warm on my shoulders as I walk Mina to nursery. I plan to come back and head into the garden, determined not to let the figure in the trees put me off what needs to be done there. The baby can lie on a blanket in the shade, and I will rid the borders of the weeds, and maybe even mow the lawn when the baby goes upstairs for a nap. I have shaken off the uneasiness that I woke up with, driven away by the cloudless blue sky and brilliant sunshine. My plans change though, when I arrive at the nursery and realize it is Friday – and that I had said I would go to the baby group with Tara and Karen. Tara hasn’t forgotten, and when I reach the door, waving madly at Mina who ignores me, she smiles.

‘I’m glad you agreed to come, it’s nice to have a new mum in the group,’ Tara says as we walk across the car park. ‘Karen has gone on ahead to make sure the tea urn is on and we have biscuits in.’ She goes on to tell me that she started the baby group herself, when her eldest was born as there wasn’t one around here. I nod politely, telling myself that this is what I wanted – I wanted adult company during the day. It’s either this or back to the cottage and the figure in the woods.

The small room to the side of the church is filled with mothers and babies, ranging from newborn up to around toddler age. Small plastic toys litter the floor, along with baby mats, baby gyms and a couple of play pens, both occupied with chubby older babies.

I take my thin cardigan off, sweating in the heat of the small room, the chatter around me louder than I was expecting, reminiscent of a school hall at lunchtime. I scoop the baby out of the pram and carry him across to where Karen has saved us seats.