The reality was that Ewan used it as a stick to beat her with, or rather undermine her with. From Poppy’s tantrums as a toddler to her pre-teen back-chatting, any behaviour their daughter exhibited that Ewan deemed unacceptable was because of what Julia did that day on the viaduct. Instead of castigating Poppy, he would tell their daughter it wasn’t her fault because she couldn’t help herself – Mummy was to blame, for exposing her to such awfulness at an early age.

She wasn’t going to tell the police that though.

‘Does she remember anything of what happened?’ asked Maggie.

‘I very much doubt it,’ said Julia. ‘I can barely remember it myself.’

She had the drugs to thank for that, the tranquillizers her doctor had prescribed to help her cope with PND but which turned her into a zombie incapable of rational thought. They made her think she had no other option, that jumping off the viaduct was the only thing that would save her and Poppy from the terrible dark cloud enveloping her. It was only weeks later, once she was out of hospital and weaned off the drugs, that she could comprehend what she’d done. So she didn’t blame Ewan for being unable to forget – he was the one who had witnessed it, after all.

‘I don’t really see why you’re asking me,’ she said. ‘It’s got nothing to do with –’ she waved her hand – ‘all this.’

Maggie said nothing.

‘How does Poppy get on with her brother?’ asked Belmar. ‘It’s Dylan, isn’t it?’

‘Yes. They get on fine. Well, like siblings. One minute they adore each other, the next they’re squabbling over the remote.’

‘Has she ever hurt him?’ asked Belmar.

Julia reared up like a lioness bearing her claws to protect her cubs.

‘How dare you! I know what you’re trying to suggest but you can forget it. Poppy doesn’t hurt other children, especially not her brother.’

Neither officer responded: they simply sat there watching her. Julia’s instinct was to fill the uncomfortable silence but the thought of saying the wrong thing kept her lips tightly shut.

Maggie checked her watch. It was a big, chunky one, more like a man’s than a woman’s.

‘They’ve been ten minutes. I’m going to go and check on them.’

Julia watched Belmar as she sipped her tea. He was scribbling notes on a pad.

‘Can I ask you something?’ she ventured.

He looked up and smiled.

‘Sure.’

‘What will happen to Poppy, if . . . if she can’t make you believe her?’

He looked uncomfortable. ‘I don’t know if I can—’

‘Please,’ she implored. ‘I want to know.’

‘Well, if we thought there was a case to answer we would formally charge her. Then there would be an initial court hearing to decide if she was eligible for bail.’

Julia was horrified. ‘Why wouldn’t she be?’