I nod to her but she shakes her head and it suddenly occurs to me she’s unsure of his reaction, not towards her but to the baby, and this fills me with an anger as hot as molten iron. She’s choosing the baby over herself and if she’s doing that now, then what is she going to do to me after it arrives? What role will I play?

‘Aoife’s pregnant,’ I blurt out, ignoring the look of horror on her face, ‘and it’s yours.’ Of course none of us knows if that is true or not, but it makes no difference to Alf and I see immediately he clearly realises the implications. Soon there will be living proof of his crimes and a couple of days in a cell will turn into a hell of a lot more.

Alf removes his arm from around me, walks to the window and looks out to sea. He says nothing, but the atmosphere around him changes in that weird way it can shift molecules so they charge or go still, and Alf’s are charged.

I wish I hadn’t told. I wish I could take it back and look at Aoife to say sorry, but she won’t catch my eye.

Slowly he turns around to face us, his expression a mixture of disgust and hate, and I know how bad my mistake is, but it’s too late.

‘Get rid of it,’ he snaps. ‘Privately. I’ll pay.’

Aoife is whiter than I’ve ever seen her. Her eyes stand out above the hollows of her cheeks, her pregnancy simultaneously expanding her and causing her to shrink.

‘I can’t,’ she says, her voice tiny. ‘I’m too far gone.’ She places a protective hand on her stomach and I see Alf flinch.

‘Then I’ll fucking get it out.’ He moves towards her and my heart is beating so fast I think I’m going to vomit it out of my throat. I move sideways, towards Aoife, and as I place a hand around her shoulders I realise for the first time how very scrawny she’s become; as if by becoming smaller she can somehow disappear from the world, taking her baby with her.

‘No, you won’t.’ My words sound more confident than I feel, and as Alf’s face stretches into a bastardised version of a smile, I feel any confidence I may have leave me.

‘Mary, come over here.’

‘No.’

‘Mary, I’m not asking you, I’m telling you. Come over here.’

Those words have been said to me so many times they may as well have been branded on me with burning metal. I obey, because I’ve made my mistake and now I have to live with the consequences, whatever they may be.

Alf puts his arm around me and relief at his acceptance quells some of the panic I feel whirling like the sea outside.