I woke up in darkness with a stiff neck and a dry mouth. Your blanket, which usually lay across the back of the armchair, had been unfolded and spread over my waist. The settee creaked as I moved and remembered where I was, what had happened. I was alone on the settee and lay still for a moment, listening.

A rustle of movement. I lifted my head. No sign of Matt. The kitchen was dark. The noise came again. A creaking sound, coming from the monitor, from your bedroom.

I pulled myself to my feet, and put on the pants and jeans that still lay in a heap on the carpet. Matt’s clothes had gone. I peered at the clock. Twenty-past twelve. It felt later. The road outside was silent. I knew every rickety floorboard, every creaking joint in that house. Heaven knows, I’d spent enough hours creeping round it in darkness, first when I was pregnant and restless at night, sneaking down for bowls of cereal at two in the morning, then, once you came to join us, the blur of day and night as you fed and cried at all hours.

The only sound as I made my way with care up the stairs and across the landing to your bedroom was the pump of blood in my ears. I always kept the door ajar so I could easily check on you. I slid through the doorway and stood for a moment, adjusting to the deeper darkness of your bedroom with its heavy curtains and blackout blind.

My hand flew to my mouth. The black shape of a figure, a man, was solid in the armchair by your bed. Silent and still, hunched forwards in the shadows.

I whispered, without thinking: ‘Richard?’

‘It’s me.’ He rose to his feet, quietly crossed the room. ‘Matt.’

I stared, then felt a sudden surge of anger. ‘What the hell are you doing?’

He looked embarrassed. I pointed to the door and stood there, glaring at him as he left, then went to check on you. You were on your back, sound asleep, your arms sprawled above your head, your hair wild on the sheet. I stroked your cheek, my fingers trembling, tucked the duvet round you and headed back downstairs.

He was standing in the middle of the sitting room. He strode across as I entered, put his hands on my shoulders. His eyes were apologetic.

‘I’m so sorry. I was looking for the bathroom. I saw the door ajar and I went in to check on her.’ His eyes, on mine, were anxious. ‘I didn’t mean to intrude. I’m sorry.’

I was still shaking. I thought of him, sitting silently in the darkness beside you. ‘How long were you there?’

‘Not long.’ He hesitated. ‘Ten minutes, maybe. I didn’t mean any harm.’

He hung his head and looked down into the lattice of his fingers. A long silence. The clock chimed half-past.

‘I miss Katy.’ His voice was quiet.

‘Your daughter?’ I sat down in the armchair across from him, my eyes on his face. My hands were tense and I folded them in my lap. He didn’t look threatening. He looked defeated.

‘She’s seven now.’

I sat on in the silence, waiting, willing him to explain.

‘It didn’t end well. She – Katy’s mother – she was very depressed after the birth and started taking antidepressants. They weren’t good for her. She had a—’ he hesitated ‘—a sort of breakdown.’

‘What happened?’

He looked exhausted. ‘She became really paranoid. I could see it was the medication but she wouldn’t believe it, she wouldn’t listen to me. She imagined all kinds of things. That I was undermining her all the time. Once someone says that, it’s hard to carry on. Her parents were sympathetic, they could see what was happening, but it was hard for them too.’

I went to sit beside him, put my arm round his shoulders. ‘That’s awful.’

He leaned in towards me and let out a deep sigh.

‘Well, anyway, she ended up leaving and taking Katy with her. She was four at the time, not much older than Gracie is now.’

‘Was there someone else?’

‘No.’ He shrugged. ‘Not that I know of. She just said she wasn’t happy. You know, the usual stuff. She wanted her space, thought she’d be better off alone.’

‘And what about Katy?’

‘She doesn’t let me see her.’

I frowned. ‘She can’t stop you, can she?’

He blew out his cheeks. I thought how gentle he was with you, how he made you laugh. He’d be a devoted father, I could tell.

‘You’re her father. You have rights too.’

‘Through the courts?’ He sighed, shook his head. ‘Not easy. She was never diagnosed with anything, just baby blues. And family courts, well, they tend to side with mothers, not fathers. My brother, Geoff, is a policeman, a detective. He talked to a few people. A lot would come down to her word against mine.’

He hesitated, his face tight. ‘I just don’t think I could face it.’

‘So you don’t see her at all?’

He shook his head, ran his hands over his face.

‘I get snippets of news about Katy. She’s learning the violin. Doing well at school. She would, she’s bright. Our mothers speak to each other, once in a while. They’re Katy’s grandmas, after all. But that’s it.’

I stared at the shadows on the wall, the reflections through the curtains from the streetlights. He was such a caring man, so kind. I thought of the way he’d comforted me when you were so ill, helped me to pick myself up again.

‘Is that what brings you here? Because Gracie reminds you of her, of Katy?’

He shook his head. ‘You bring me here. The way you are, the way you love Gracie. My ex was never like that. Never like you.’

He turned to me, opened his arms and drew me to him. His breath was warm in my hair. ‘I’m sorry. I wanted to talk about it earlier. I suppose, if I’ve seemed a bit cautious… well, the timing never seemed right.’

I nodded. It had felt as if a piece were missing. Now I had it.

‘You must miss her terribly.’

‘Not my ex. I hated her for a while. Not any more. But Katy—’ He paused. ‘It’s hard. Hard for me. Of course I miss her. It tears me apart. But I try to tell myself not to be selfish. If I went into battle with her mum, kicked up a fuss, what would that do to her? Kids can’t cope with all that. It’s confusing.’

He paused. He turned away from me as if he were wrestling with himself and didn’t want me to see.

‘But I try to keep some sort of contact. I send her presents, you know, for Christmas and her birthday. But I don’t know what she has, what she likes. I don’t even know if she gets them.’ He paused. ‘Or if she even remembers me.’

‘That’s terrible.’

His jaw was clamped shut and I saw his struggle to collect himself before he could speak again. ‘Perhaps that’s why I understand a little bit of what you’re going through. You can’t bear the thought of anything happening to Gracie. I see that. I suppose I can’t bear the fact I lost Katy, in a different way.’

I hesitated, tried to imagine it. ‘Maybe, one day.’

‘Maybe.’ He nodded but his face was without hope. ‘I think that, sometimes.’

‘I’m so sorry. I don’t know what to say.’ I reached out and stroked his cheek. ‘And I’m sorry I was angry. It was just—’

‘You were right to be. I should have explained.’

He gathered his clothes and shrugged on his coat.

‘I should go. Get some proper sleep.’

In the hall, we kissed and it was a new kiss, less electric and a little sadder, as if we knew each other differently as a result not just of the sex we’d shared but because of what he’d told me.

Before I crawled into bed, I came into your room and sat there in the armchair. My eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness. I tried to see it all though his eyes. The framed pictures on the walls, old-fashioned scenes from nursery rhymes: Humpty Dumpty tottering on a wall, a fine lady on a white horse, the princess and the little nut tree. The shelves of stuffed toys and storybooks. The creams and wipes and thermometer and bottles of medicine lined up on the top shelf, out of your reach.

You were curled round now, your arms clutching your bear. I leaned forward until I could hear your soft breathing, so close that I could smell your hair, your skin.

I tried to imagine it. To imagine Richard taking Gracie away from me and never being allowed to see her, to hold her. I thought of Matt going alone into toy shops twice a year, into department stores, struggling to choose presents for a little girl he no longer knew. Not knowing if she opened them.

He was right. I couldn’t bear to lose you. You weren’t just what made life worth living. You were my life.