As we were getting in I leaned forwards to kiss her, as I assumed she wanted me to. She put her hand between us and laughed. ‘Oh, Paul. That has cheered me up. How funny! Make sure you send in that application.’ And then she got in the car and it drove away, leaving me feeling quite foolish and drunk, disappointed even, but not unhappy, not ashamed. I reeled away to the bus stop, looking for someone else to talk to.

*

I got to the hospital before Amy. A young man in a green hospital gown and socks was sitting on the ground and asking people hopelessly if they could spare a cigarette. I walked over and lit one for him, wondering if I was doing something awful to his health.

I had spoken to Amy on the phone the night before, and she had told me that she had accepted an offer for her flat and had an offer accepted for another, larger flat, in a quieter part of town, the sort of place where young middle-class parents lived. She also told me that the interview to get her job back had gone OK, but they were making her wait for a verdict until a series of other meetings had been conducted. She was due to hear from them first thing in the morning, just before her twelve-week scan, ‘the same morning I’ll discover if my baby is still alive or deformed or—’

‘I’m coming with you,’ I said. ‘I’ll get someone to cover me in the morning.’

‘Really?’ she said. ‘OK. Thanks.’

When she arrived I hugged her, carefully. We were running late so we hurried through to the maternity section and checked in at the reception, looking around us at the various couples waiting quietly next to the plastic children’s toys and colourful picture books.

‘Did you hear about the job?’ I asked, when we sat down in a far corner of the waiting room.

‘Yeah, they gave it me back, on probation.’

‘Hooray!’

‘Hooray.’

‘That’s good, isn’t it?’

‘They’re such caring people, they couldn’t bear to think that they weren’t caring people. I went to the doctor and got a note to say I’m suffering from depression and am seeing a psychologist for resulting anger-management issues. I think that clinched it.’

‘And they believed you?’

‘Well, yeah. Because I am actually doing that.’

‘Are you? You’re depressed?’

‘Yeah, I mean, yeah. I need the job.’

‘Is it helpful? The therapy?’

‘I’ve only just started it. She says I show the classic behaviour of a rageaholic.’

‘Rageaholic? Does that make sense etymologically? It’s like saying people are gamblingaholics, heroinaholics, wankaholics.’

‘Does it matter?’

‘No. Sorry.’

‘I like the woman I speak to.’

‘Are you really depressed? I didn’t know you were depressed.’

‘I’m sad, Paul. Really sad. Aren’t you?’