The sky is streaked pink and orange when I wake, the sound of a baby crying sharp in my mind. I have been so restless in the night, the duvet has slithered onto the floor and I am cold and stiff. I stretch out my legs, flexing my feet, encouraging the blood to flow and chase the pins and needles away before I stamp over to the window on still too-numb-too-feel feet. The driveway is empty. I rub the sleep from my eyes, as though I can make Nick’s car appear. It doesn’t. My mobile skitters across my bedside cabinet trilling ‘Like I Love You’, and I know it’s Lisa.

‘Morning, Lisa.’

‘Hello.’ She sounds flat. ‘I told my mum last night about the surrogacy.’

‘How did she take it?’

‘Not well. She didn’t understand how I could give a child up. Not when she’s lost one.’

‘Did she come around last time? With Stella?’

There’s a beat.

‘She wasn’t thrilled, but this time it’s worse. This time—’

‘It’s me.’

Lisa sighs ‘I didn’t mean… Look, Jake was my twin and I loved him as much as her, if not more. It was an accident. I can see that. Why can’t she?’

‘It might have been an accident but it was still the wrong place at the wrong time, and if it wasn’t for me, Jake wouldn’t have been there, would he? It’s human nature to look for someone to blame.’

‘But…’ Lisa is crying now. I wait while she gathers herself. ‘You weren’t driving. Jake was and they don’t blame him. Does someone always have to be accountable, Kat? She’s so busy being angry and hurt she’s forgotten the good times.’ Her breath hitches. ‘Do you remember when we made that Easter cake? We must have been about thirteen?’

‘Yes. It was terrible! It sank in the middle.’

‘Jake said he could do better, and we told him boys couldn’t bake—’

‘And he locked himself in the kitchen and made that chocolate log. It was amazing!’

‘It was shop-bought, you know.’

‘It wasn’t?’

‘I found the box in the bin. It was at the back of the cupboard, left over from Christmas. He just took off the snowman and stuck mini eggs on the top. I told him I wouldn’t tell if he let me eat the rest. No wonder I was fat.’

‘How funny. I thought he was an amazing cook. He made us a romantic meal for two once. Pasta and—’

‘Dolmio.’

‘No!’ I laugh, though it is slightly disconcerting that the person I thought I knew better than anyone managed to fool me. But I suppose we are all taken in sometimes, aren’t we? We believe what we want to see.

‘I miss him, Kat, and I haven’t had anyone to talk to about him. To be honest, my mum is still so wrapped up in grief she barely talks to me any more.’

‘You can always talk to me, Lis. I’m always here.’

‘Sorry. I’m hormonal.’

‘Don’t apologise. You’ve just lost a baby. A twin. You’re bound to be feeling awful.’

Lisa cries even harder. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘Stop apologising, Lis.’

She blows her nose. ‘It never gets any easier. The loss. I don’t think time does heal, do you? We just have to learn to live with it, but what if we can’t? What then?’

I sift through platitudes I quickly discard, remaining silent until Lisa’s sobs abate.

‘Do you want me to come and see you?’ My offer is genuine.

‘No. It’s probably best you don’t visit Farncaster again. I don’t think you’d get a very welcome reception.’

‘What about your scan?’

‘I know you wanted to be there, but, Kat—’

‘Please. I don’t mind so much about the midwife appointments, but actually seeing the baby… I could meet you at the hospital and leave afterwards. No one will know.’

‘I don’t know.’

‘Please, Lis.’ The online surrogacy group I’m part of says it’s such a great bonding experience if you can be present for the scan. ‘I really want to be as involved as I can.’

‘OK.’

She still sounds reluctant but I’m already mentally planning my route, how I can drive around the outskirts and avoid the town centre.

‘You’ll let me know as soon as it’s booked? I don’t want to make anything harder for you, Lisa. I promise. I respect your mum doesn’t want anything to do with me but I’m here to support you in whatever you need, and it doesn’t have to be baby related. It’s been good – talking about Jake.’

‘I’ve missed you,’ Lisa blurts out.

‘Come and stay with us. Soon. Bring some old photos.’

‘The ones of Jake in that crazy pork-pie hat he wore?’

‘He was wearing that the night of Perry’s party.’ It had slipped backwards as we shared our first kiss, and he’d steadied it with one hand, his other massaging the back of my neck.

‘I’d like to come and stay,’ she says, ‘and share memories of Jake. I’d like that a lot.’

A feeling of warmth wraps itself around me like a cloak, and I berate myself for the time I’ve wasted.

* * *

The shower spits and splutters. I scrub at my skin, as if I can wash away my tiredness. The water torrents along with my emotions. Of all the things I am feeling about Nick, underneath the suspicion, the disappointment, the worry, bubbles happiness that me and Lisa are okay. The baby is okay.

As I lather coconut shampoo, I practise the things I’ll say to Nick but, even in my head, the words sound cold and accusing. It will be better to wait and see what he has to say for himself. Once dried and dressed, I paint on a brave face. My skin tight under a thick layer of foundation.

I have chopped vegetables, dissolved stock cubes and am pacing barefoot, from sink to cooker and back again, my soles sticking to the tiles, when Nick slinks into the kitchen.

‘Hey.’ He can’t quite meet my eye. ‘I didn’t think you’d be home yet.’ He dips his head to kiss me, and his stubble grazes my cheek.

I pull back as the rank smell of whisky stings my nostrils.

‘I’ve not been back long.’ My voice is jovial, giving him the chance to tell me the truth, but underneath my calm exterior, anger is simmering like the soup on the stove.

‘Something smells good!’ He lifts the lid on the pan and inhales deeply.

‘Where have you been?’ The question slips out before I can think it through.

‘I nipped to the office to pick up some papers. I missed you last night.’ Nick nuzzles my neck, wrapping his arms tightly around my waist, squeezing me so hard my lungs grapple for air. I try to wriggle from his grasp, but he clings on and I can’t break free. Sliding my arms around him, I feel his shoulders shake and think he might be crying but I can’t be sure. I half-expect to smell traces of perfume – there’s nothing but stale alcohol. Nick puts his palm on the small of my back, drawing me closer until there isn’t even a centimetre gap between our bodies, yet I’ve never felt so distant from him before.

‘There’s something I need to tell you,’ I say, pulling back. I find his eyes before saying: ‘I know.’

There is a flash of panic on his face. ‘You know?’ He speaks slowly. Carefully. As if buying himself time to form a proper answer in his head before he says it out loud.

‘I know you weren’t here last night.’

A sharp intake of breath tells me I have caught him by surprise.

‘No. I wasn’t.’ He doesn’t elaborate further.

‘Where were you?’ I cross my arms. I am afraid of his answer but, at the same time, I am desperate to hear it.

‘Kat.’ He whispers my name with such regret. ‘I am so, so sorry but there is something I need to tell you.’