‘Do the opposite of everything. Change your shopping habits, the food you eat, the food you don’t eat. ‘Ast any hobbies and that?’

‘Gordon Ramsay programmes. Sylvanian Families. Sadistic torture.’

‘Anything that can mark you out as Rhiannon Lewis you’ve got to jettison, dead quick. What sort of scran do you like?’

‘Maoams. Pancakes. Pop Tarts. Anything in Nutella. Coffee.’

‘Not anymore. Get into all that wellness bollocks – edamame beans, protein powder, kombucha, all that sorta crap. I know it sounds painful, believe me I couldn’t get me underpants on of a morning if I haven’t had a Full English but needs must. Quit alcohol ’n’all, get into that green shit they’re all drinking. You educated?’

‘Eight GCSEs, three A Levels, degree in—’

‘—not anymore. Act dead thick. Wouldn’t know shit if you swallowed it.’

‘Fucking Hell’s bells.’

‘And stop swearing. And stay away from anyone British and from CCTV. Try and change your accent ’n’all.’

‘I’ve been practising Australian. I watched the end of Neighbours today.’

‘Good. Watch Home and Away ’n’all. And that film wit’ her whose face don’t move. Keep working on it. Once your story breaks, all ears’ll be pinned back for a British voice, especially a bird on her own.’

It all seemed like a lot of extra work. ‘Fu-dging he-ck.’ Polite swear words tasted like arse in my mouth.

‘The price for freedom is everything you once were, Rhiannon. Text me when you’ve booked your cruise and lemme know what date you get here. Ditch your phone. And don’t call me again.’

‘Are you sure you can get me gone?’

‘Consider it sorted. Just get to my gaff. And do the transfer, there’s a good girl.’

‘OK. Thanks,’ I mewed, still uncertain about the patronising prick but unfortunately that prick was the one prick from which my future hanged. Bobby had enough dodgy contacts to keep me and the baby hidden forever.

‘But you didn’t take the baby with you?’ says Freddie, mid-scribble, smoke emanating from the nib of his Visconti ballpoint.

‘No. She arrived early on 27 December, the day Bobby received my money. The day before I was to set sail on the Flor de la Mer. I had to leave her behind.’

He nods. ‘This was before you killed Sandra Huggins?’

‘Yes. Just before.’

Freddie clears his throat and flicks through his notes. ‘You got your solicitor to sign her over to Claudia Gulper, is that right?’

‘Yeah. I was so hell-bent on turning old Huggins into a one-woman Red Wedding, the baby was a mere obstacle. Once she was gone, I could let rip.’

‘Do you regret leaving her behind?’