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Judith Palmer’s childhood did not make for pleasant reading, Stacey thought. If she was using her own experience to guide others in her role as ‘supporter’, then goodness only knew what advice she was giving.

Stacey had learned that Judith Palmer had been born in Tipton to an alcoholic mother who was nineteen years old and had already done two stretches at Her Majesty’s pleasure. Judith had spent the first seven months of her life in hospital suffering from alcohol withdrawal.

Her whole childhood had been horrific. She had been removed from school because her mom couldn’t get up to take her. She was placed in and out of care her entire life, but her mom would always get clean and fool the authorities again. Her mom refused to do the decent thing and give up parental responsibility so that Judith would have the chance of adoption. Instead, she would fetch her out of care, and then the whole cycle would start again.

Judith had been sent around to the neighbours to beg for alcohol and had been forced to leave the house when her mom had entertained men for a cheap bottle of whisky. She’d been forced to eat the scraps from other people’s bins when her mom forgot to feed her.

Her whole childhood had been a horrific litany of abuse and neglect at the hands of a woman who cared only for herself.

Stacey sat back and sighed, confused. Given what she’d learned, why the hell had she been able to read about such horrific mistreatment and yet remain unmoved?

Stacey was well aware that her emotions lived very close to the surface. Only the other day, Devon had read her an article about an elderly dog finally finding his forever home and the tears had gathered in her throat.

And yet here she was after a tale of prolonged suffering and heartbreak and she didn’t feel a thing.

Her concerns about her own humanity were interrupted by the return of Penn and Tiff, who had chosen to take lunch in the cafeteria while discussing what to do about Olivia.

‘Cheers, matey,’ she said as Penn placed a ham-and-cheese panini on her desk. Betty was getting adventurous, and Stacey had developed a liking for this new addition to the menu.

She sat back to eat it while it was hot as the two of them sat down.

‘Is her brief here?’ Stacey asked, seeking a distraction from her own workload. A change was as good as a rest, her mom always said.

‘Yeah, he’s with her now.’

‘Why so glum? She confessed,’ Stacy said, taking a bite of the sandwich.

‘Cos she didn’t do it,’ Penn answered. ‘We just need to work out why she’s saying she did.’

‘So work it out,’ Stacey said. ‘She’s not a puzzle, Penn; she’s a human being, so why would she confess to a crime she didn’t commit? What does she have to gain?’

‘Maybe she’s taking the blame to save her son?’ he mused.

Stacey shrugged. It was possible.

Penn was not the most skilled interpreter of the workings of the female mind, but Tiff looked like something was beginning to germinate in her brain.

‘Penn, is Logan still here?’ she asked.

‘I think so. He was fetching coffee, but he insisted he wasn’t going home until he saw his mom.’

‘Okay, sounds like a good idea,’ she said, standing.

‘She’s under arrest,’ Penn offered needlessly.

‘Come on – I’ve got an idea,’ Tiff said, heading out the room. Penn shook his head before following closely behind.

Stacey smiled as she pushed away her sandwich. Oh, how Tiff had grown since they’d first met her. There was still the natural effervescence and joy in life. She still whistled theme tunes and sang the wrong words to musicals, but there was a new solidity, a confidence that added balance. Stacey liked to think they’d all been a part of that growth.

She returned to the blogs written by Judith Palmer and started again from the beginning.

She’d been dipping in and out of the blogs to get to the core of Judith’s issues, but this time she would read them in full and in the order they were written.

Something about them just wasn’t making sense.