The window is shut. I quickly put the baby’s arms and legs back into his Babygro, and pick him up, holding him close as I walk on shaking legs through the open door into Mina’s room, and then through the open door of the bathroom. All the windows are shut, and every door stands open. I close my eyes and try to count to ten, only getting to five before they fly open, adrenaline making my hands shake. If the windows are all closed and the doors are open, then what was it that made a huge bang as I waved my mother goodbye? I didn’t imagine it, I’m sure of it, the baby woke and started crying. Making small shushing sounds to the baby as he begins to fuss, I head back downstairs to the living room, where Mina still sleeps on the sofa, her cheeks now flushed with pink. I settle in the armchair across from her and latch the baby on before he can begin to wail properly. All is quiet now, the only sounds the snuffling of the baby and Mina’s breath as she snores lightly, sounding slightly congested. I feel myself begin to relax, my shoulders lowering as no sound comes from overhead, and the chimney is silent. My pulse slowing, I allow myself to think over my mother’s visit, now I am over the shock of seeing her sitting at my kitchen table. I can’t believe she was here. The sight of her, sitting there as though it hadn’t been months and months since I last saw her, was something I never expected but I am relieved she came. I still feel unsettled, and although she didn’t give me much sympathy – which is not unusual, that’s just how she is – I feel as though she believes me more than Rav. Rav is convinced that it’s exhaustion that is making me feel so on edge. But I am still no closer to understanding what the vision I keep seeing could mean. If I’m honest I played it down a little, not telling her that I didn’t just dream it whilst asleep, that it plays on my mind in the day too.

I wake Mina for lunch, trying to push any thoughts of my mother, and the slamming of the door upstairs, from my mind for a while. She struggles into consciousness, her cheeks still flushed and her eyes bleary. She grumbles as she comes into full wakefulness and raises her arms for me to lift her. I carry her through into the kitchen, her small body warm against mine, and prepare her some soup and fingers of bread. Mina picks at the bread listlessly, letting the soup spill in bright orange spots onto the table.