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‘Not a nice letter to land on your doorstep,’ Tessa remarks.

‘No. But she’s been to this sort of meeting before. In London. She’ll know what to expect.’

‘Don’t waste too much time on this,’ Tessa cautions.

‘I never waste time. I don’t have nearly enough of it.’

‘So when is this meeting going to be then? I have averyfull calendar.’

‘The end of this week.’

‘Ha! You’ll be lucky.’

‘As long as I don’t get distracted by anything else and the doctor can make it.’

‘Not get distracted?’ Tessa snorts. ‘When does that ever happen? So listen. I need you at ten-thirty—’

‘I won’t be free. I’m still trying to find Tom Kinnock’s father. Ideally, I’d like to talk to him before the meeting.’

‘Watch out there, Kate.’ Tessa wags a finger. ‘There’s a restraining order against him, isn’t there? He’s violent.’

‘Watch out yourself, Tessa,’ I say. ‘It’s beginning to sound like you might care what happens to me.’

‘No fear of that,’ says Tessa casually. ‘I learned my lesson years ago. You’ll leave in the end. All the good ones do.’

Lizzie

Tom went back to school today. As my little boy crossed the playground, my heart dragged on the back of his heels. This tightrope of pain is familiar. I balanced on the same barbed wire when I left Olly. No choices are good here. Carry on and life is unbearable. Fall and you could break your neck.

Mum came to visit mid-morning, which was awful. But she didn’t stay long because she was angry that I had no tea or milk.

I survived the rest of the morning by Googling parents’ rights and child protection laws in different countries. What would happen if we moved abroad?

Now I’m eating lunch – fish fingers I bought for Tom, but am using as an emergency meal.

Perched on a sofa arm, I chew slowly without appetite, swallowing crunchy, charred breadcrumbs and thin, white fish.

Beside me sit social services documents, still unread. They arrived today, and will explain how the meeting will work. It will involve Tom’s headmaster, a doctor and other ‘relevant’ people.

I remember how this all works because of Olly. Time smooths rough edges, makes pain more bearable, but it also rubs away memories. Makes the past hazy.

I must never forget how dangerous Olly is.

Balancing the bowl of fish fingers on the sofa arm, I pick up the envelope, turning it in my hands.

Kate Noble is more competent than the other social workers I’ve met – something for which I suppose I should be grateful. I mean, at least she’sdoingsomething. Taking an interest in us.

I notice how bitten and short my fingernails are. Maybe Kate has made a note of this.A sign of stress.

Sick with fear, I turn the pages, trying to take in details.

Risk of harm … unexplained injuries …

I look at the fish fingers, now unable to finish them. As I put the bowl by the kitchen sink, I have a thought:Better check the medicine box key is still under the rubbish bin.

I tip the silver cylinder to one side and kneel to examine the key taped underneath.

The key is there, but …