Previously, my worst experience of insomnia had been in pregnancy. Caleb, restless, even when unborn, had thrashed like he wanted to kick my heart. My second pregnancy hadn’t lasted long enough to get to that point and sometimes I’d felt guilty because it had been something I dreaded. Carrying Caleb, my collecting had become uncontrollable. I pocketed small things: baby rattles, dummies, chew rings. I only felt relief when leaving a store with something new. One terrible time I was caught. Stephen sorted out the store manager. I took everything back and was banned from returning, but I wasn’t charged. Stephen helped. With an air of superiority, like he enjoyed confirmation of his superiority over me. Why doesn’t he do more now? It had never been predictable, when Stephen would be involved with Caleb, and when he wouldn’t. Jack was a far better father figure, though he had no children himself. Jack’s was the wiry strength that saved Sean from dying last year. His shoulders gave him the appearance of reliability, and I relied on him in court to save my son. Yet, together Stephen and I had created another human being. And nothing had ever made me feel more fulfilled than motherhood. With a baby, I never had to wonder what my purpose in life was. Instead of long nights haunted by the emptiness of the universe, I had lain awake, worrying about why Caleb wasn’t feeding, or if I should wake Stephen for help. He hadn’t been helpful.

I drifted into an unrestful dreamscape, through memories that twisted into nightmares. The glimpse of yellow uniform, bright through soot, that I’d spotted on the Brunton street, finding Caleb. What was wrong with me? A proper mother would have noticed he was bleeding and concussed. Maybe I’d never been good enough. Baby Caleb used to have night terrors and would wake, screaming. Anything could set him off: a preschool friend broke his arm, and each night for the next week, Caleb woke, convinced he himself needed an X-ray and a plaster cast. Terrorist planes destroyed the Twin Towers on the TV news, and Caleb, nightly, was on a crashing plane or falling from a high window. Rushing into his room, grabbing his convulsing small body, I’d held him tight against my chest. Taken care not to wake him too quickly, bringing him gently into a peaceful world.

‘I’ll never let anything bad happen to you,’ I’d promised.