‘She’s okay? Everything went okay? Has she had her milk, and bedtime porridge?’ he gabbled, eyes still searching for evidence.

‘Yep.’

‘You didn’t give her a bath? Because she’d be fine with a clean nappy and change into a sleepsuit.’

‘She had a bath. We splashed and sang and squirted her blue whale. It was a very lovely time. And then a story, milk and she settled straight down.’

He stared at me, this new information flitting across his face like data on a computer screen. ‘Why… why didn’t you wake me?’

‘You looked like you needed the sleep.’

‘But you’ve had her all day.’

‘It was fine. We enjoyed it. Here.’ I fetched a bowl and scooped out a ladleful of minestrone from the pot simmering on the stove. ‘This is what real soup tastes like. And there’s fresh bread on the table.’

After a few seconds of him staring at me, I placed the bowl on the table and pulled out his usual chair, before coming to sit down opposite.

‘Wine?’ I asked indicating my half-finished glass.

‘I’ll get myself a beer in a moment,’ he said, slowly, picking up a spoon and eyeing the soup as though he didn’t know where to start.

I got up and went to the fridge, twisting off the top of a beer and placing it in front of him.

‘I can fetch my own beer.’ He looked up, frown firmly back between his eyebrows.

‘I’m aware of that.’ I shrugged.

‘You’ve done more than enough for me today.’

I took a nonchalant sip of wine. ‘I don’t understand why you sound angry about that.’

That was a teensy fib. I did understand, but I wanted him to acknowledge it.

‘I’m not angry. I’m just… uncomfortable. I didn’t need you to bath Hope and put her to bed. You should have woken me up. And now you’ve made soup and baked bread and you’re handing me beer. I really appreciate you watching her, but I don’t need you to step in and start mothering me. We can manage fine. We have been – we are – coping fine. If I was a woman, no one would think twice about whether I could balance a job and a baby and then cook myself dinner at the end of the day. Single women do it all the time. Why is it that because I’m a man, because I’m not Hope’s biological dad, people assume I can’t do this, that I need help?’

‘Daniel, it’s quite clear that you can do this. Even if it is grinding you into a total wreck. Although plenty of single parents have cleaners. And childcare! I didn’t help because you needed me to, I put Hope to sleep because it was one of the loveliest things I’ve got to do in months. Years, probably. I love cooking. And I didn’t bake the bread, I got it from the Co-op. They sell fresh food over on the New Side, did you know that?’