I realise that she is giving me an out if I need one – if the press attention becomes too much, or if Fran decides she does want me to leave. I’ve managed to keep out of the way for the most part up until now, but now the press have caught wind of the fact that I was being questioned at the station, it’s only a matter of time before they find out who I really am, before things escalate, exactly as they did in Killin.

‘Thanks, Mum.’ We say our goodbyes and I hang up, feeling better than I have in a long time. I have no more secrets left to keep, nothing left to hide now that I have been honest about what happened in Scotland, and I have confessed to being someone other than Anna Cox. Now all I have to hope is that the secret of whoever took Laurel will be revealed soon. That the truth will come out.

The next morning marks a month since we last saw Laurel. It is the first weekend in December, a weekend which would usually be spent trawling the local Christmas tree farm searching for the best possible tree. The first year I worked for the Jessops Dominic went out of his way to be there on this weekend, not wanting to miss the search for the elusive perfect tree, but for the past two years he hasn’t; citing work as the reason for his absence. This meant that for the last couple of years I have been included on this most special occasion, responsible for holding tight to Laurel’s hand to make sure she didn’t run off too far amongst the trees. There is a bittersweet moment when I wake, and I forget that she isn’t here before the heavy sense of loss returns. I think that maybe Fran will skip the ritual this year – if I, as Laurel’s nanny, don’t feel like celebrating, or even acknowledging a Christmas without Laurel I don’t see how Fran will want to – but when I come downstairs she is in the hallway, pulling her boots on, the fur cuff leaving stray hairs on the bottom of her designer jogging pants.

‘You’re up!’ she exclaims, giving me a thin smile. It’s as though our conversation the previous evening never happened, like I never confessed my secret to her and everything is as usual, but despite her attempt at normality, her face is pale and the dark rings around her eyes tell me that she didn’t sleep last night. Again. ‘It’s tree day, you didn’t forget, did you?’