I want to believe that he’ll do this, but bitter experience tells me he won’t. Something will come up at work, and he’ll text to say he’s going to be late – that’s what usually happens. I wonder if it is guilt that is making him unusually patient and attentive this morning. It’s on the tip of my tongue to ask him to tell me where he really was yesterday, to tell him that I saw his car parked outside The Black Horse last night when he says he was over forty miles away in Bromley. That I know he was with Naomi, not Gareth. But there is a part of me that thinks – hopes – that it wasn’t what I imagined, and a part of me that doesn’t want to know if it was. ‘You should get going,’ I say instead, letting him kiss my forehead and watching as he walks towards the door. ‘See you tonight.’

Mina wakes not long after Rav leaves, followed by the baby, his shrill cries making my hairs stand on end as I remember the noises coming from the woods in the dead of night, the noises that sounded like a crying child. Agnes’s crying child. I feed him urgently, shoving my breast in his face in order to stop the crying, then feeling guilty as he snuffles and wrenches his head away.

‘Sorry, baby.’ I kiss him on his soft, downy hair, closing my eyes and inhaling his scent, feeling the sharp pinch as he finally latches on and begins to feed. Mina comes to sit close by me, her colour back to normal now and as I press my hand to her forehead, it feels cooler.

‘No nursery today,’ I tell her, as she presses herself against me, her weight a small, suffocating cushion as her sharp elbows dig into my ribs. ‘We’re going to see a lady.’

I had texted Miranda after my mother had left, asking her about visiting Mrs Sparks. It had been less than an hour later when she had replied, telling me that Mrs Sparks would see me this morning. I feel apprehensive now, as the baby finishes feeding and I tuck him in the pram, before helping Mina with her trainers, and I am glad when a knock on the door signals the arrival of my mother. Stepping out onto the path to the pavement, I pause for a moment wondering whether I should turn back and pick up the keys from where Rav threw them onto the dresser.

‘Allie? Are you ready? We don’t want to be late.’ My mother stands waiting for me under the small amount of shade cast by the yew tree in the front garden.