Lucy and I chatted about this and that, but mainly about breastfeeding, sore boobs and exhaustion. She was obviously feeling very fragile and seemed grateful that I had gone round.

‘It’s good to talk to someone who’s in the same boat. You can feel quite isolated when they’re tiny. My mum comes round when she can, but she has to work. Some days I feel as though the walls are closing in on me.’

There was a sudden whimper from upstairs. ‘Oh, Georgie’s awake at last. I’ll go and bring him down.’

She returned moments later clutching the baby, a look of panic on her face.

‘He’s gone all floppy. And he’s burning up; feel his head.’

I touched the baby’s forehead. His skin was pale and clammy, and unnaturally hot. Georgie’s eyeballs had rotated upwards, leaving only the whites visible through their half-opened lids. He seemed oblivious to his surroundings and his limbs were jerking in an alarming way. His breathing sounded worryingly erratic.

‘I think you’d better call an ambulance.’

Lucy had begun to shake. Her eyes were wide with fear. She seemed incapable of action, and stood, immobile, staring down helplessly at the twitching baby in her arms.

I took out my mobile and dialled 999. After being connected to the ambulance service, the call handler asked me a whole list of questions, then told me to remain calm and that someone would be with us as soon as possible.

‘What d’you think’s wrong with him? Oh my God – d’you reckon that old witch next door to you could have had something to do with this?’ Her eyes were wild, her face filled with panic. ‘She hates me, I know she does. I’ve seen her looking out at us when we walk past. She frightens the life out of me. And I’m sure she was at the back of Alfie’s upset stomach that time. I think she tried to poison him. D’you reckon she’s put some sort of, I dunno, hex on us?’

I was appalled. The idea that Mrs Barley could launch an attack, psychic or otherwise, on an innocent baby was horrific. Mrs Barley wasn’t capable of such a thing. Then I remembered the old woman’s words when I’d told her about Georgie: ‘Is all well with the baby?’; the look on her face as she had asked. A cold dread began to stir from somewhere deep within me.

‘Oh Christ, where’s fucking Eddie when I need him?’ She began to pace up and down, as much as the lack of floor space would allow, the baby’s slack head bobbing involuntarily with her movement.