As she touched his downy cheek in the grey morning light, she found herself wondering once again had she done the right thing. If she could go back to that night, the night of the party, and make a different choice, was there a way to change the outcome? Maybe not. She lay back against her pillows and let herself remember what she’d been suppressing ever since it happened.

Something had woken her. It happened all the time since she’d got pregnant, shooting awake in the middle of the night, every hair on her body standing on end, her heart trying to pound right out of her chest. And there was always nothing. A shadow across the bed, maybe, or a car passing in the street outside. Her body was on red alert for any danger to the child in her belly. Now, disorientated, she took a few minutes to understand where she was. Ali’s spare room. The unfamiliar smell of her washing powder. The silence of the country, the dust under the bed where it wasn’t vacuumed properly. Except it wasn’t silent. There’d been a noise. Her ears might not have known but the nerves in her spine were sure. She got up, lumbering to the window that looked over the vast, dark garden. It wasn’t fair. Her own London house had only a small patio area, despite costing close to a million pounds. Anxiety pounded through her as she passed a hand over her stomach. To soothe the baby, or soothe herself, she wasn’t sure. It would all be OK. Cal had escaped all that nasty business at work, the girl had been paid off, and he’d promised Jodi it would be fine. Jodi wanted to give this child everything, and that included a mother who didn’t work. Ali hadn’t worked. She could do the same.

The lawn was illuminated by a ghostly half-light from the kitchen, and she thought again how dark it was. In London, a street light outside made their house as bright as noon sometimes. Here there were shadows deep as ink, and she could hardly make out the figure on the lawn. A flash of bare leg told her – Karen. Jodi made an audible tut with her tongue. Karen had been ridiculous this evening, in a dress that would have been too short for Cassie, throwing her legs up on Bill’s knees. Poor man. Anyone could see he’d never been interested in Karen. Bill wasn’t like that. He was quiet, kind. He’d offered Jodi his arm to cross the lawn to the table they’d eaten at, made sure she was OK.