‘No. He doesn’t deserve anything after the way he treated him.’

Nick shakes his head as if he’s weary of this conversation already. ‘You need to go to sleep, Lisa. It’ll all look better in the morning. I’ve made up the couch for you.’

‘You’ve made up the couch for me?’ I can’t believe it. Nick has been back two minutes and is already taking control of my home. How is it that I have been evicted out of my own bed?

‘I’m sorry, Lisa, I think it’s safer if you sleep downstairs. Our Jack and I are going to camp out in your room. In the morning . . .’

‘In the morning?’

At least he has the decency to drop his gaze to his glass. ‘In the morning, Jack’s going to contact social services. He wants to tell them that he plans to take Jack back full-time. He says . . .’

‘He says what?’

‘Lisa.’ He sighs like a dying man’s final fight. ‘He wants to make what you’ve done, official. He wants it recorded in case you ever try anything again. But he’s being reasonable – he says, if you let them go without any trouble, then he won’t file the complaint with the police. You don’t want that: kidnap carries a heavy custodial sentence.’

I stare at Nick. Our eyes lock together across the table, across the years, across the wasteland of our disappointment. This is all we have now between us – an unspoken but shared sadness for how it turned out. Our hopes, our dreams: our baby.

Nick’s a good man and always was, and it’s to my shame that I let anyone else think otherwise. Even now, after all these years, I’m amazed I can see the memory of my love for him so clearly.

‘I’m sorry that this has happened when, before all this, you were so great for little Jack. I know you think of him as your own,’ he says as he takes my hand.

Nick means this to be kind, but I shake him away. ‘After all we went thorough together, I can’t believe you’d help him to take my Jack from me.’

‘But he’s not—’ He doesn’t finish, looking quickly away, but I hear it anyway: He’s not your Jack.