‘Don’t freak out.’

A male voice. He sounds almost as scared as I feel.

I remain where I am, facing the bifold doors, afraid to turn around. ‘What do you want?’ I ask, a tremor in my voice.

‘It’s okay, it’s only me, miss.’

‘Callum?’ I turn around and let out a huge sigh of relief when I see the boy standing by the kitchen table, his hands raised as though in surrender, his puppy-dog eyes brimming with worry. ‘You scared the life out of me,’ I snap. ‘What are you doing in here? You shouldn’t be inside my house.’ I know how ironic that sounds considering my recent actions, but Callum doesn’t know that.

‘Sorry,’ he says, lowering his hands. ‘Didn’t mean to scare you.’

‘So?’ I ask. ‘Have you got an explanation for what you’re doing here? And don’t tell me you’re looking for your football.’

‘No. I was in the fields out the back, trying to get hold of Hannah – she hasn’t replied to my texts – and I saw your back door was open…’

‘So you thought you’d wander in?’ I need Callum to leave. My mind is still churning from my encounter with Martin.

‘No,’ he replies. ‘I rang your doorbell first. But you didn’t answer, so I came round the back again to see if you were okay.’

‘And what made you think you could just come inside?’ I ask in my most serious teacher voice.

He shifts from one foot to the other. ‘I was worried, miss.’

‘Worried?’

‘I heard what happened at the barbecue yesterday.’

My face heats up at the thought of it. A breath of wind blows in from the garden, ruffling my dress, my hair. I smooth my dress and push the curls off my face.

‘I know your husband took your daughter away this morning.’

My heart begins to beat faster. ‘Are you spying on me, Callum?’

Now it’s his turn to flush. ‘No. I just heard about it. You know what it’s like, people talk. I wanted to say I’m sorry about what went on.’

‘You didn’t just break in here to say you’re sorry.’ A myriad of possible reasons why he could be here race across my mind, but none of them make any sense.

‘I didn’t break in!’ He thrusts out his jaw. ‘When you didn’t answer the door, I was worried. I knew your husband had gone and I thought you might have…’ He tails off.

‘You thought I might have what? Hurt myself? Come on, Callum, you’ll have to do better than that.’

‘It’s true, miss. I was really worried. You were my favourite teacher at school. I knew you wouldn’t have got shitfaced at the party and dropped your baby like they said you did. Thing is… I know something.’

‘What! What do you know?’ The look on his face is scaring me. He seems uncomfortable, like he knows something bad. Something I won’t want to hear. The trees and bushes are rustling outside. A dog barks in the distance.

‘For starters, your husband shouldn’t have taken your little ’un away,’ Callum says with a scowl. ‘You should get her back off him.’

‘It’s not what you think,’ I say, wondering why I’m discussing my personal life with an eighteen-year-old boy. ‘I haven’t been myself recently,’ I continue. ‘Dom’s taken Daisy to his parents to give me a break. Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like you to leave. I appreciate your concern, though,’ I add.

‘Don’t you wanna hear what I’ve got to say?’ he asks.

I’m not sure I do. But he obviously has something he wants to get off his chest. ‘Go on then, Callum. But make it quick. I’m not feeling too great.’ The events of the party are catching up with me. I really think I need to go and lie down.

Callum tilts his head. ‘I know something about your husband.’

A chill settles on my shoulders. I walk over to the kitchen table, pull out a chair and take a seat, crossing my legs and then my arms. ‘What? What do you know about him?’ I’m telling myself to stay calm. This boy can’t possibly know anything about my family. He’s just a kid who believes whatever ridiculous gossip he’s heard.

‘Well, for starters, he’s getting juice from Jimmy Clifford.’ Callum grips the back of a chair and tips it towards him.

‘Juice? What are you talking about?’ I don’t like the sound of this.

‘Steroids, miss.’

‘What?’ As shocking as this sounds, I’m almost relieved. I don’t know what I was expecting, but it was something far worse than steroids. ‘You think Dom’s taking steroids? Who told you that? You can’t come round here and start accusing…’ But suddenly it all starts to make sense – Dom’s brief visits to the Cliffords after work, his obsession with training.

‘Everyone knows about Jimmy,’ Callum says. ‘I’ve scored there myself from time to time.’

I raise my eyebrows.

‘Nothing heavy, miss. Just dope.’

‘So? You buy dope. So what. What makes you think Dom’s taking steroids? Jimmy’s a friend, that’s all. He goes round there for the occasional beer sometimes.’

Callum pulls the chair out and sits down, starts drumming his fingertips on the table. ‘I saw Dom there once with the gear in his hand. Told him his secret was safe with me, but he hates me now. Thinks I’m going to tell someone.’

‘Well, Callum. You have told someone. You’ve just told me.’

‘Yeah, but that’s different. You’re his wife. You deserve better than that scumbag.’

‘Excuse me!’

‘Sorry, miss, but Dom’s a tosser.’

I rise to my feet and take a step towards the open back door. ‘Okay, Callum, I’d like you to leave now.’ I grit my teeth, tiring of this conversation, of this boy and his talk of drugs and steroids. I’ve got more important things to worry about, like who’s threatening me and my baby and how I’m going to get Dom and Daisy to come back home.

‘Sorry,’ Callum says, sounding anything but, ‘I know he’s your husband and you probably love him and everything, but you shouldn’t. I haven’t told you the rest.’ His drumming fingertips are getting faster, louder.

‘Do you think you could stop that?’ I ask, nodding at his hands.

Callum splays his fingers flat on the table, then looks back up at me, his dark eyes full of something – pity? I can’t tell. ‘It’s a bit awkward,’ he says. ‘This thing I’ve got to tell you.’

I shake my head, impatient. ‘Go on. Spit it out.’ I notice a damp patch up on the corner of the ceiling, right below the bathroom. We must have a leak somewhere. I’ll have to get Dom to check it out when he comes home… If he comes home.

‘You know you called the cops about that baby-monitor thing?’ Callum says, jolting me back to the present.

‘How do you know about that?’ I ask, tensing.

‘That doesn’t matter, miss. The thing I need to tell you is that there is another baby in your road.’

‘What?’ I take another step back. This boy is in my house. Only he’s not a boy, he’s a man. And he’s just admitted that he knows about another baby. Maybe he’s not the sweet person I thought he was.

‘It’s not what you think,’ he says quickly, his eyes wide, realising he’s frightening me.

‘You better tell me what the hell’s going on, Callum.’

‘It’s Hannah’s baby.’

‘Hannah? But she’s only fifteen!’ I realise that was a naive thing to say. Hannah has been flirting with boys at school since she was twelve.

‘She’s sixteen now,’ Callum replies. ‘Anyway, her family’s trying to keep it quiet. Trying to stop it turning into a scandal. Parky’ll probably lose his job if the school finds out his daughter got pregnant when she was fifteen – got to keep a squeaky-clean reputation and all that crap. That’s why they’re moving house. Parky’s got a new job up north. Hannah’s pissed off – she said her parents are going to pretend the baby’s theirs.’

‘Is it your baby?’ I ask. ‘Is that why you’ve been hanging around next door? I thought you said you two were just friends.’ Something else occurs to me – I bet it was Parkfield behind that anonymous call, trying to warn me off. Trying to stop any gossip from flying around school. My blood heats up as the realisation begins to dawn. All that stress and fear caused by a pompous man trying to save his reputation.

‘No,’ Callum says, ‘the baby’s not mine, even though her parents think I’m the dad. That’s why they hate me. Me and Han, we’re just friends. We’ve never slept together. Never even kissed. She was a virgin until…’ Callum’s hands curl into fists and his face turns red.

‘Callum?’ I prompt.

‘I’m sorry, miss. I didn’t want to tell you this.’

‘Tell me what?’ The room begins to close in as I wait for him to go on. My heart drums in my ears and pulses in my fingertips. I don’t want him to finish his sentence. I don’t want to hear what he has to say. The air stills as if holding its breath.

‘Hannah was a virgin,’ Callum says, ‘until she slept with your husband.’