Of course I’d cancel if necessary. Now that my world had changed for the catastrophic, Josh was low down my list of priorities. Who was that woman who’d considered having her eyebrows plucked professionally, maybe even having them tinted to remove the grey? Not the one sitting here.

‘Yes, it might,’ agreed Helena slowly. ‘Important to carry on as normal. All right, go, but don’t talk about it, OK?’ She struggled but failed to keep the bafflement from her voice. I could see her and Imo thinking, God, we always knew Luce/Mum wasn’t brain of Britain, but this level of stupidity is unreal.

I lowered my head. Hard to explain. About always having been on my own. Always fighting my constant battles, alone. Always keeping Michael to myself. Hard to explain, when you’ve been locked in a dark cellar, sometimes for hours at a time, how it had felt to talk to someone who seemed incredibly kind and concerned and who knew about these sorts of people. By whom I meant Michael and Amanda. Understood the way their minds worked. But when I raised my eyes, both pairs of eyes regarding mine were kind.

‘It’s all right, Mum,’ Imo said gently. ‘I get why you told him.’

I nodded. Made my mouth move a bit, but couldn’t smile.

Helena leaned across and squeezed my hand. I nodded mutely. They both gave me a moment.

‘Do you think, if it came to it, you could possibly bring yourself to talk about Michael to anyone else?’ asked Helena gently.

‘Who?’ I whispered, but I knew.

‘The police,’ she said quietly. ‘These days, there are very many more women who are coming forward, with lives like yours. Who, because of what they suffered, are being dealt with leniently.’

‘Would it have to be … public?’

‘You mean a trial?’

‘Yes.’

‘I don’t know.’

‘And newspapers?’

‘Possibly. But as,’ she hesitated, ‘your – friend – told you, and just going by the zeitgeist, I have every confidence that even if it did go to trial, and to the press, you’d be dealt with fairly.’

Dealt with. I felt very cold, I realized. And the pub was warm as toast, a fire in the grate beside us. ‘It’s not really that,’ I said, forcing myself to raise my voice above a whisper. ‘It’s just, if it was public … if it all came out. All of it …’ I trailed off.

‘Ned and I would know the extent of it,’ Imo said gently.

I looked down at my hands. Tears began to stream down my cheeks. I couldn’t stop them. More and more they poured, like a valve that’s been bursting and suddenly opened. Imo darted to sit beside me and held me tight but I couldn’t stop. I was gasping, eyes shut, shaking. Luckily my back was to the rest of the pub but I was oblivious to everyone else anyway.