The doctor said, very quietly, that I needed to rest and that everybody else needed to leave.
Tobiah said he was the father and was entitled to be there.
And the doctor looked at him for a long time and said: I know.
I did not understand that either. Not for another hour.
About twenty minutes later I was in a wheelchair in the corridor outside the nursery. They had taken my son through for his checks and the blind on the window was down.
There were about eighteen people in that corridor. Midwives, a porter with a trolley of towels, two families waiting to go in and see their own.
And his mother came down it, in her good coat, with a folder.
She had not come to see the baby either.
She got hold of my wrist and she said it loud enough for every single one of them:
