Picture of Innocence. TJ Stimson

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       Sunday 6.30 a.m.

      Maddie opened her eyes, and for a few merciful moments, as she hovered between sleep and wakefulness, she’d forgotten. And then remembrance slammed into her like a freight train.

      She hadn’t known how savagely physical grief was. Losing Benjamin had been bad, but it was nothing compared to this. Her body felt brutalised. She curled herself into a tight ball, hugging her knees to her chest, and pressed her pillow over her ears as if she could use it to block out her thoughts. If she could just get back to sleep, maybe she’d wake up again in her own life, instead of a nightmare that belonged to somebody else.

      Her breasts were burning. It was time for Noah’s feed. Except Noah was dead.

      She threw back the covers and ran into the bathroom, retching violently into the lavatory bowl. She hadn’t eaten in thirty-six hours; she was bringing up nothing but bile. She couldn’t block the image in her head of Noah lying cold and white and still in that hideous plastic crib. Try as she might, she couldn’t summon an image of her son alive.

      She rocked back on her bare heels and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. The phone was ringing, but she ignored it. She couldn’t imagine going to answer it. She couldn’t imagine leaving this bathroom at all.

      The ringing stopped. She heard the muffled sound of Lucas’s voice as he spoke to someone, and moments later, he appeared in the bathroom doorway. He’d pulled on a pair of jeans and a cotton sweater, but he looked haggard and unkempt and at least twenty years older than yesterday. She’d never seen him unshaven, she thought irrelevantly. She hadn’t realised he was going so grey.

      ‘That was the hospital on the phone,’ he said.

      She looked at him blankly.

      He rubbed his hand over his stubble. ‘They said if we want to take Emily and Jacob in, we need to go today.’

      ‘What for?’

      ‘To see Noah,’ Lucas said bleakly. ‘We talked about this yesterday, Maddie. The children need to see him, so they can say goodbye. It’ll help them understand what’s happened and that he isn’t coming back.’