Two withered pear trees, their branches entwining, stand in front of the house, silhouetted in the faint moonlight. There is a central portico. Latticed windows like small eyes, sunken in more of the dark Yorkshire brick, seem to study me, though there don’t appear to be any lamps behind them. Eliza and Alice are probably asleep, or at the back of the house.

It is too late to knock on the door unannounced. If I were Eliza, I would not open it at such an hour. In any case, I am practically falling over with exhaustion, and in no condition to act. I return to my car and retrace the route I took earlier, stopping at a crumbling old hotel that I earmarked along the way. Through the window of my room, I can see the shadowy ruins of an old abbey. I strip off my filthy clothes and take a shower. When I finally collapse on the bed, wrapped in a towel and with my hair still wet, I am so tired I feel as if drugs are coursing through my veins. I want to think about Alice, but I fall asleep the instant my eyes are closed, unable to think about anything at all.

Yorkshire, Wednesday, 10 April 2019

It is 9.30 in the morning when I stand at the door, gathering courage after coming so far. I take a deep breath and grab the knocker, which is in the shape of a lion’s head. I smooth the midnight blue dress with tiny moons, which I’m wearing again. I’d repaired what I could using the sewing kit in my hotel room plus a few extra that I’d taken from a stray housekeeping trolley. Then I’d brushed away the worst of the dirt. I am about to knock a second time when I hear footsteps approaching and the lock turning.

Eliza is wearing jeans and a grey sweatshirt, trainers on her feet, and her hair in a short ponytail. Behind her, I can hear Alice crying, and it is as if I am in hospital again, when those cries I thought were coming from somewhere else were actually coming from me.

‘Oh, Helen.’ Eliza bursts into tears and falls into my arms.

‘I was worried about you.’ I am craning my neck to look behind her shoulder. ‘Is Alice okay?’

She pulls away, wipes her face with an elbow. ‘I’m scared that maybe the iron supplement isn’t working fast enough – she’s so sleepy after the journey. And extra cranky. It’s since we got here – I’d never have brought her otherwise.’

I feel a cramp low in my belly, where my womb used to be, like the twitch of a phantom limb. ‘We can take her to A and E.’

She nods. ‘I was thinking I would. How did you find us?’

‘I went to your house. Your husband – Zac – told me.’

‘I see.’

‘I didn’t want you to be alone.’