I don’t know whether to hug her. Truth is, I barely know the woman, and although I’ve forgiven her for deserting my mum – some people can’t deal with other people’s grief and sadness – I can’t say she’s somebody I wanted to see again.

She bends to take off her boots, and stands them against the wall. ‘I have this horrible fear that it was Finn who left the mask on my step,’ she says.

‘Finn?’

‘Yes. Apparently he’s just come out of hospital, which seems more than a coincidence, don’t you think?’

I lead the way into the kitchen, saying nothing until I reach the fridge. I turn. ‘But why would he?’

‘I’m convinced he killed Ruth and Maddie, took Elise, and Lark,’ she says. ‘I mean he lived up there on that lonely estate with an overprotective, strange mother. He’s textbook psychopath.’

‘The police don’t seem to think so.’ I sound defensive.

‘I’m sure it’s only a matter of time before they catch him out. Apparently he’s staying with Julia in Eyemouth. It makes me uneasy that he’s so close.’

I shudder. Have I got it wrong? Had he tried to kill me that night after all? ‘I just don’t think it was him,’ I say.

She touches my arm again. ‘Well let’s agree to disagree, shall we?’

I nod, deciding not to enter into a debate. ‘Listen, I was about to have a glass of wine.’ I open the fridge, and grab a bottle of sauvignon blanc. ‘Oh God, sorry,’ I say, remembering she’s pregnant.

She smiles, and lifts her hand, as though to say, don’t worry. ‘I’d love a cup of coffee, though.’

I reach for the kettle, and shove it under the streaming tap. ‘You’ve got over your hatred for the demon coffee beans then?’

‘Sorry?’

‘You went off coffee.’ I turn and tilt my head. ‘Didn’t you?’

‘Yes. Yes, that’s right.’ Her cheeks flush, and she squeezes her hands into fists. ‘Well, that’s all passed now thank goodness.’

We stand. Waiting for the kettle to boil. Awkward. And I find myself making small talk. ‘I’m having a makeover tomorrow.’

‘Makeover?’

I laugh. ‘Well, I’m getting my hair cut in town – that’s as adventurous as it gets for me.’

Another awkward silence follows, and I feel I have to fill it. ‘Does it help you get through this awful nightmare, knowing you have to stay strong for your baby?’ Her face crumples, and I instantly wish I’d kept my mouth shut. But I remember that warm feeling inside me when I was carrying my own baby. It was as though I had permission to be happy.