‘Oh, I was,’ she smiled. ‘I was really scared. I don’t think I fully realised what I was getting into when I got pregnant. Not properly. I mean, I wanted you, planned you, spoke about you, pictured you, bought you clothes and stuff, but that’s all superficial.’ She shook her head, thinking back to that time when she would flop on the sofa, rub her bump and read a baby magazine, picking up top tips and letting her excitement grow along with her stomach. ‘I mean, I knew I was going to get a baby – I saw the scans – but it wasn’t until that moment at home, away from the protection of the maternity unit where I was looked after, and there were visitors, bustle and noise. It wasn’t real in the hospital. I was a bit dazed – euphoric, but dazed – recovering from giving birth and a million other things. It was busy, but as I say, not real. No, for me it was that moment when I arrived home and kicked off my shoes and sat quietly on the sofa with you in my arms.’ She smiled, remembering the feel of him. It was real then. I had come home from the hospital with you, my baby, and I treasure you now as much as I did then. ‘Your dad came into the room and put my slippers on for me – it was the kindest act.’ She swallowed, thinking of closing the door of the hotel room that afternoon, running down the corridor and watching Helen Maxwell in her driveway. ‘He went to make me a cup of tea, and when he came back in the room, I couldn’t figure out how to hold the tea, let alone drink it with you in my arms, and we laughed. He stood there, holding both cups, his and mine, as if he couldn’t figure out what to do either, how to help. And I laughed because I knew how much my life had changed, so I couldn’t just grab a cup and take a sip of tea, but mainly I laughed because of how happy I was, how very, very happy – despite being scared and clueless. Because I had my family, and that was all I had ever wanted.’

And it’s all I want . . . my family . . . I do like my life . . . I love my life! It’s time to remember how much. I need to tell my husband my secret. I need to tell that man who held my foot so tenderly and placed a slipper on it . . . I owe him the whole story, the truth, and I owe it to myself. They say the truth will set you free and I want to be free of all that tethers me to my past. I want it so badly . . .

‘Well, I take that as the highest compliment. I know how much you love your tea,’ Jake said softly.