A matronly woman with short, permed blonde hair asked him to sit down, and she pointed at the chair furthest from the door. Her name was Mrs Johnson and she’d come with the van and another two officers to collect him from the secure unit. She was a court-appointed social worker. Kevin thought she was a cow. She pinched him when she thought no one could see. He knew, even if they could, no one would do anything about it. He was planning his revenge on Mrs Johnson when the door opened.

He was about to meet Renee for the first time since they’d been arrested and she’d grassed him up. He was looking forward to it. But he guessed she wouldn’t be feeling the same.

Renee wasn’t alone. She came in with her own social worker, a woman who seemed really young, with a posh voice and too much make-up. Her name was Michelle, she said. She smiled at Kevin and tried to chit-chat about the weather. Michelle stared at the two children; they were going to have to sit in this room until the jury was picked. The lawyers were having difficulties. No one wanted to sit through a three-week trial listening to the last hours of Matthew’s life, and no one wanted to confront the ‘Edmonton 38’, people just like them who chose not to save the toddler’s life. Michelle didn’t care. She thought society was to blame.

Renee was smaller than Kevin remembered. He tried to catch her eye but the little bitch wouldn’t look at him, except once when she puffed up her cheeks. It was the gesture they used to do to the fat kids at school. She would pay for that. Michelle turned on the radio. She was trying to be their friend. She was the only one. Mrs Johnson didn’t approve of pop music. She switched the station to Radio Four and quickly turned it back again. Woman’s Hour was discussing the danger faced by the Cook killers.

Kevin glanced at Renee out of the corner of his eye. He understood what the announcer was saying. He had been threatened himself, although the ‘carers’ at the secure unit had tried to hide it from him. When he closed his eyes at night he still saw the mothers and grandmothers who tried to rip Kate apart–they weren’t so different to him, whatever they might like to think. Renee sat on the edge of her seat, swinging her legs back and forward. His throat tightened until it was hard to breathe. She had grown; her body had lost the puppy fat and her hair was clean and shiny–custody agreed with Renee. He started to laugh. His coarse, harsh, hysterical laugh echoed round the room; he laughed until his belly hurt, tears rolling down his face; he had to grip the side of the chair to stop him falling off.