That is the fourth or fifth time I have done it to him, by my count, and it is the one I would take back, because by the August he was eleven weeks away from having to say it in a side room at half past four in the morning.
Marnie.
She is fourteen months and she is enormous and she is fine.
And the mark is still there and it has gone slightly paler, the way they do.
And she will have it for the rest of her life.
And at some point — not for years — somebody is going to have to tell that child that her father saw that shape once before, in 2019, on her sister, in a room, for twenty minutes.
And it will be me, because he will not do it, because he does not do that sort of thing.
And I have started about four times to work out how I would say it, and I cannot get past the first sentence, because the first sentence is about what I did not look at.
