My feet are stuck to the carpet. I can’t seem to remember how to move. I don’t know if the banging I can hear is in my head, in the basement, or from the front door. A tidal wave of panic crashes over me, almost knocking me off my feet. I stumble backwards. Lean against the wall, not able to stand on my own. Footsteps thud-thud-thud along with my heart. My earlier courage, fuelled by anger, is slipping away, slithering down between the gaps in the wall and the skirting boards, never to return. What was I thinking asking Aaron here?

There’s the jangling of keys and once again I am back in that night. Jake slipping his key into the ignition. The engine roaring to life. I shake my head, and the sound is replaced with a crying baby, or is it me that is crying? I touch my cheeks with my fingertips and they come away wet. Laughter. Stop the laughter. How can I make it stop?

The front door swings open and Nick steps inside, handkerchief pressed to his face, crimson with blood that is still dripping.

‘I banged my nose on the car door…’ He tails off as he notices the state I am in.

I am shaking and sobbing and he dashes towards me, his mouth opening and closing, but his voice sounds muffled and echoey and I can’t make out his words. I stare past his shoulder at the basement door, wanting him to read my thoughts. Know what I have done. Make it all better, but instead, he slips his arm around my shoulders and leads me into the kitchen. The softness of his voice combats the scraping of the chair legs against the tiled floor. His tone soothes me, although I cannot understand what he is saying. He would have made such a good dad. The whooshing in my ears grows louder and louder and dizziness engulfs me every time I move my head.

* * *

I am back at Perry Evans’s party. Red and green flashing lights bright in my mind. His mum’s cat ornaments rattling on the shelf as the bass vibrates. Vodka relaxing my muscles as I sway to the music. Paul Weller sings, and Jake’s hand heats the small of my back. His voice murmurs. He pulls me towards him. My eyelids flutter and my head tilts. Lips part. I lean in for his kiss but over Jake’s shoulder I see Lisa’s expression. The hurt. The anger.

Lisa.

I press the heels of my hands against my eyes, digging my fingertips into my scalp.

* * *

It is Nick’s hand on the small of my back. Nick’s voice murmuring. The thudding isn’t the bass: it’s my own guilty heart.

‘Kat. Shhh. It’s okay.’

I try to shake my head, clutching his hand, willing him to know what is wrong, but he doesn’t ask, and I think of all the times he has come home lately. The times I had told him someone was watching the house, someone had been in the house. My almost hysterical outpourings, and I almost don’t blame him for not asking. But I need to tell him about Lisa. I can’t leave her for hours like I was left. Scared. Alone. In the dark. At least she has a light, I reason, a sofa; it’s not so bad. But it is. It is very, very bad.

‘Nick…’ I snatch a breath while I try to put my words into some semblance of order. It’s almost impossible to know where to start.

‘What the?’ There are deep grooves on Nick’s brow as he stares over my shoulder at the window.

Lightning cracks, and I almost hold my breath as I wait for the rumble of thunder. What has he seen?

Or who?

Even though I am expecting it, I still jump in my chair as the thunder crashes. Nick straightens up.

‘What is it?’ I whisper.

Nick shakes his head, but he can’t tear his eyes away from the window and, almost in slow motion, I turn. The kitchen lights are reflected in the panes of glass and all I can see are our kitchen units and our shadowy figures.

‘Someone was out there,’ Nick says, and my hand gropes thin air until I find his fingers. I grasp his hand tightly.

‘Let’s go upstairs.’ There’s an urgency in my words.

I catch sight of the scan photo on the fridge – God knows where Lisa got that from – and I realise how devastated Nick will be that yet again he won’t be a father, and it’s all my fault. There’s a part of me that wants to usher Lisa out of the house. To tell Nick the surrogacy has fallen through, but there have been so many lies already. I glance at his profile. His curly hair flopping in his eyes. Hair so like Ada’s. Is he already a father? Suddenly I feel weighted down with the past, and it is almost more than I can bear. It’s time for us both to be honest. About everything. I draw a breath so deep my ribcage feels it will burst as my lungs expand, but before I can speak, Nick gasps, and this time I see it too. The face looking in. The eyes staring at us. I am powerless to react as Nick sprints across the kitchen and wrenches open the back door. My hands cover my mouth. The rain bounces off the skylight, fierce and loud.

A muffled cry.

Lightning.

The sound of a scuffle.

Thunder.

‘Nick?’ I rush to the back door, but before I can step outside, Nick almost falls into the kitchen, dripping wet and panting hard. He isn’t alone. He is dragging someone with him and they crumble onto the kitchen floor. There is a sickening crack as their heads make contact with the tiles.

Nick is sprawled on his back, blinking furiously as he raises his hand to his forehead, and I offer silent thanks that he is okay. But what about Aaron?

He is still. Quiet. Lying face down.

And slowly I inch my foot forward and jab my toe into his side.

He doesn’t move.