‘Well, I feel like I can’t stop smelling it,’ Sonia went on, ‘everywhere I go, even now everything’s clean. It got everywhere. Everywhere. Even the tiniest little speck on something, and I had to throw it away. Precious things. Josie’s baby stuff. We started off trying to bleach things but Chris just got a skip in the end. I cried, Tara. I just sat down on the steps and cried.’

‘I’m sorry. That must be very hard.’

‘My partner’s OCD’s off the scale,’ Sonia went on. ‘He’s obsessed with what might have been in the water. Parasites, germs, chemicals, dead things. I don’t think we’ll ever be able to go back.’ She wiped her eyes and stared out of the window.

‘Are you still at your mum’s?’

She nodded bleakly. ‘I can’t bring the kids home. All their toys are in the skip outside. I have to walk past it every day. That’s our life.’

Tara was conscious of her phone buzzing on the desk. She always had it set to silent during sessions. As usual, her first thought was: Phil? followed by a series of calculations: seven weeks since he’d dropped Sybil off at her house ‘just for a few nights’; two weeks since she’d watched him lever himself off her bed and saunter naked into the ensuite, whistling the theme from Top Gear.

But unusually, Phil vanished, to be replaced by a new possibility: Dad.

This time Tara’s stomach did a proper anxious roll, followed up with a patter of panic in her chest. She glanced at the phone out of the corner of her eye. He hadn’t replied to her email yet. Maybe this was it.

‘Tara?’

Sonia was glaring at her.

‘Sorry, Sonia, I was just …’ There was no excuse for getting distracted during sessions. It was the one thing she could promise her clients: her focused attention. ‘Last time we discussed a self-care plan. How’s that going? Getting enough sleep’s so important.’

‘I wish. We’re on my mum’s sofa in a sleeping bag. It smells of mice.’ Sonia looked exhausted. ‘Sounds stupid now, but I’d literally just bought everyone new bedding in the sales. Really nice stuff, I’d been saving up for it.’

Impulsively, Tara reached behind her desk. ‘Listen, I was going to take this down to the crisis centre in case someone needed it, but would you like this bedding? It’s new, hasn’t even been out of the packet. I’ve got a duvet in the car, if you want that?’

‘Really?’ Sonia peered into the bag, then looked up, overwhelmed. ‘You’re sure?’