I imagine him quickly tapping out the text between calls or clients, then sliding the phone into his desk drawer, forgetting about us for the rest of the afternoon.

I tap on his name to call his office line, glancing at the clock to see with a shock that it is almost six o’clock. Hovering my finger above the icon to connect the call, I pause for a moment. There isn’t much point in calling him. I probably won’t get through, and even if I do, he’ll be brusque and snappy, annoyed at me for disturbing him at work. And anyway, I can’t wait for him to pick up infant paracetamol on the way home if he’s going to be really late. I tap my fingers on my chin as I think. The time on my phone ticks over to 5.56 p.m. and I think of Naomi. The shop closes at six o’clock, but the phone rings out when I call. Swiping to call her mobile number, I wait, anxiously tapping one foot on the tiled floor but it goes to voicemail. She must be on her way home already. Sighing, I stoop to pick up Mina’s trainers from the hallway and grab her little jacket from the coat stand by the door.

‘Come on, darling, let’s go and get you some medicine.’

There is a hint of a chill in the air, despite the sun still being above the horizon, and I walk briskly, glad that I thought to attach the weird buggy board contraption that Avó bought us so Mina can ride along instead of walking. The small supermarket in the village is still open and I hurry inside, glancing at the darkened windows of The Daisy Chain as I pass. I had half wished that Naomi was working late and hadn’t answered her phone because she was occupied with floristry tape and ferns, but the complete darkness even at the far end of the shop tells me otherwise. Snatching up the medicine, I pay quickly and once outside lay my hand on Mina’s forehead. She is still warm, so I open the package and hastily squirt a syringe of sticky pink liquid into her mouth, hoping it will start to work by the time we get home.

‘Daddy,’ Mina mumbles as I tuck the blanket a little tighter around the baby, before turning the pram in the direction of home.

‘Yes, Daddy will be home soon,’ I murmur, laying one hand on her head as I try to steer with the other.