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I feel a large, warm body beside me. It’s Stuart. He puts a heavy, muscular arm around my shoulder and I feel the familiarity of his great bulk.

‘Are you okay, love?’ Stuart is Scottish and huge. Most men wouldn’t want to tackle him in a fight. But Olly is the sort to act first and think later.

I shake my head, unable to speak.

‘You should call the police.’ Stuart rubs his jaw and it makes a clicking sound.

‘I can’t do that. It’ll just make things worse. He’ll be back. And when he comes back, he’ll say sorry.’

‘So you’re happy to have your little baby son driven around by that man?’

‘He would never hurt Tom,’ I say. ‘He gets angry with me. But never Tom.’

‘Hey.’ Stuart squeezes my shoulder. ‘You’re a good mother. You don’t need that bastard. It can’t go on like this. I hear you fighting, morning, noon and night.’ He looks at me meaningfully. ‘Did he put his hands on you?’

I look at the pavement.

‘Jesus Christ.’ Stuart looks up to the sky, grimacing. ‘I told you leopards don’t change their spots. I’ll kill him.’ I burst into tears, and Stuart’s big arms come around me. ‘Hey. Don’t cry,’ he says, stroking my hair. ‘Why don’t you leave him? Make a fresh start.’

‘I can’t.’

Stuart slips his hand into mine and holds my fingers tight. ‘This is breaking my heart.’

‘Who’s going to want a woman with a baby?’

‘I do.’

‘You don’t. Not really.’

‘I know my own mind. And I know you pretty well, too.’ Stuart raises a thick, dark eyebrow, and I blush.

There was a night. A regrettable night.

Olly and I had been fighting. I suppose I was frightened. Trying to make a safe space for myself. Olly’s medication was making him especially paranoid and I ended up downstairs, crying in the communal hall.

Stuart found me. I wanted to be found. Comforted by someone. Noticed.

And somehow I ended up in Stuart’s flat.

I’m not even sure how it happened, but he took me into the bedroom. We had sex on the bed and then again in the kitchen. Stuart lifted me, totally naked, onto the breakfast bar and we had sex in full view of the street, curtains open.

I think it was thrilling for him, me being on display, so nearly caught out.

‘Please don’t talk about that,’ I whisper to Stuart. ‘If Olly finds out, he’ll kill me.’

Kate

1.01 p.m.

It’s Friday. Tessa and I are meeting to discuss my workload. Because we don’t have time for lunchanda meeting, Tessa orders in Pizza Express: American hot, garlic dough balls and chocolate fudge cake for her, plain Margherita for me. And a bottle of red wine from the supermarket – something we’re not technically allowed in the workplace.

I don’t drink – a source of annoyance for Tessa.

‘You eat like a sparrow,’ she says, pouring red wine into a balloon glass brought specially from home. ‘I thought Lent was months ago.’

‘I’m having a whole pizza,’ I point out.

‘A Margherita?’ Tessa scoffs. ‘That’s barely even a snack. And you won’t share any of this pud, I’ll bet. Or the wine. It’s Friday. Live a little.’