She laughed, her voice cracking in her throat. ‘Well, you can tell Joseph there are no polar bears in Moscow – certainly not in April – but if you can spare him, I would adore to take Otto with me.’

‘It’ll be a brilliant adventure for him,’ Tom said, ruffling their son’s head. It was the first time he had spoken for a while and when she looked at him, she pretended not to detect the strain in his features. Tom had been hurt when she refused his offer for the three of them to see her off at the airport. It would be too hard, she told him; too emotional, for everyone. And he had nodded along, as if he had believed it was that simple.

She didn’t look back after she closed the front door. Even when she felt her children’s eyes following her down the street through the slatted blinds in the living room, their stares urging her to turn, to give them a final wave; to give them the reassurance they so badly needed.

Instead, she kept her attention fixed on the pavement in front of her as she moved towards the cab, the wheels of her suitcase catching against chinks in the concrete, busying herself with the mechanism of the passenger door, and finally her seat belt. The clicking sound was the doors of a prison cell locking behind her.

It was only once the car had turned the corner that she let her head fall back, and the tears burn down her cheeks, saliva catching in her throat.

Chapter 52

Isobel

By the time I reach the refuge, I am out of breath.

‘That was quick,’ Maureen says, pulling open the door.

‘Is she here?’ I ask, already knowing the answer.

Maureen nods towards the open doorway, where a young woman about my own age sits at the table, beside another slightly older woman, with glossy skin and an expensive coat.

‘This is Dana,’ Maureen says and when the young woman nods in acknowledgement, her lips crack under the weight of frosty-pink gloss, turning up slightly at the corners in an attempt at a smile.

‘And this is Madeleine. Madeleine works at the National Crime Agency,’ Maureen adds and Madeleine nods, her eyes sharp and unreadable as they meet mine.

‘Dana has been working with the organisation to help report suspected instances of trafficking. She has been hugely brave in working with Madeleine, and she thinks she might be able to help you.’

‘I’m not here in an official capacity,’ Madeleine says. ‘Maureen mentioned your enquiries, and I thought of Dana. Maureen tells me you’re a brilliant journalist, and very trustworthy.’

There is a flicker in her expression that tells me she thinks this is an unlikely notion, but she is clearly as in awe of Maureen as I am.

‘Thank you,’ I say and Madeleine shakes her head.