It’s not yet eight a.m. when she turns on her phone and picks up one message from Emilia’s agent, Sam, asking her to call, and a second from Matthew summoning her to his house for a catch-up.

Maisie, home for a planned revision day, returns from the corner shop with milk and a copy of The Sun.

‘They’ve laid out ten suspects for “the woman in the kitchen”,’ she says, hair fallen either side of a paler than usual face. ‘Lily just messaged me the article. Told me she’d seen the actual paper. Said I should get one for the archives. To show my grandchildren.’ She looks up from beneath her hair. ‘One of the suspects is you.’

Becky swallows and smiles. She can do this for her daughter. She can be calm and reassuring.

‘Yes,’ she says. ‘But it’s fine. Obviously it’s not me. And look, everyone they’ve got has denied it. Only Matthew’s wife hasn’t, but she hasn’t said anything to anyone. And come on!’ She tries a laugh. ‘They’ve even put Julia Roberts in as a potential suspect! That’s hilarious.’

‘She was in London and she’s a friend of his,’ Maisie says quietly.

‘Wouldn’t you recognize the world-famous star of Pretty Woman and Notting Hill and a million other things if she was standing over you, watching you? This is completely stupid.’

‘How many of these people do you know?’

‘I don’t know why this is still a story,’ says Becky, affecting growing irritation.

‘It’s a weird thing to make up though, isn’t it? Why would you make up something like that?’ Maisie crosses her arms across her chest.

‘I don’t know. Maybe she wants to sound credible, claiming there was a witness, even if there wasn’t. That way people think they’re waiting for proof that they’ll end up getting, instead of it being what it is, which is ultimately her word against his.’

‘That’s, like, most rapes, isn’t it? He said, she said?’

Becky has had versions of this conversation before. She spent six months working with a psychotherapist building up to being able to talk about sex, consent and personal safety without breaking down. She practised, like she was training for a marathon. She wants sex for her daughter to be loving or playful or fun, and safe. She doesn’t want her to feel used or discarded or belittled. She doesn’t want her daughter to feel the fear that has sat heavy on her own shoulders all these years.