‘Have you seen what’s happened?’ A note of sadness creeps into her voice. ‘That little girl in Surrey . . . she’s gone missing, you know. Out with her mother, she takes her eye off her for one minute and that’s it, she’s gone.’ My heart bangs in my chest, and I have to take a deep breath before I can speak.

‘I haven’t seen it, Mum,’ I lie, convinced that lightning will strike me at any minute. ‘It hasn’t reached up here yet.’

‘Oh, well, good,’ she says, ‘It’s not a nice story, but we’ll simply have to hope for a happy ending. Anyway . . .’ She pauses, and I close my eyes for a brief moment, seeing the house in Scotland, the blood on the flagstone floor, the way it had soaked into my hands, embedding the skin around my nails, and how I’d had to scrub until my hands were sore to get it out.

‘You still there? I said, how’s the weather up with you?’

Pulling myself back to the present I let out a silent whoosh of relief. ‘Getting cold now. They think maybe it might snow next week.’ I cross my fingers and hope she doesn’t check the weather forecast. ‘But it’s OK. We’re not so busy now the holiday season is over.’

‘Will you be coming home for Christmas?’ she asks, and I can still hear it, that little rise in her voice that tells me she doesn’t really want me there, not after what happened. I’m not the daughter she can boast about to the neighbours, not any more.

‘I doubt it, Mum. I’m sorry – Ewan has already invited me to spend Christmas with him and his family. He is the boss so I kind of had to say yes . . .’ I trail off, trying to inject at least a tiny bit of disappointment into my voice.

‘Don’t worry, love. Of course, you should stay there! Who wouldn’t prefer a white Christmas up north, over cold and grey Brighton? Ring me on the day, when you get up.’

I make reassuring noises and hang up before she does, and flop back onto the bed, puffing my hair out of my eyes. It’s all OK – for now. She still thinks I’m in Scotland. I just have to keep it that way.