Quickly, I type, Not if it’s real love.

To my astonishment, Abandoned Friend likes my comment almost instantly. She must have set up some kind of alert for whenever I make a reply, since discovering my first. She is out there, in real time, talking to me. It must be her.

My heart is beating so fast. Half a minute later, she replies again to my comment. There is no doubt that it was, she says.

I look up, and see Eliza and Alice entering the park from the other side of the children’s play area.

I type another reply. One word is all I have time for. One word is all I need. Was?

She answers my single word with her own. Is.

Then, before my eyes, the review vanishes, and the comments along with it. Is Milly erasing any evidence that could possibly hurt me? Whatever the answer to this question, the contact with her has given me a much- needed boost of strength and heart, but also a reminder of how deeply I miss her.

I drop my phone in my bag and jump out of the car. Eliza waves madly as I walk towards her and Alice. We stand in front of the swings. She punches a juice box with a straw, then hands it to Alice before taking two flasks of coffee from a bag she has hung on the handles of the pushchair.

She takes a sip, closes her eyes, and sighs. ‘Oh, do I ever need this.’

‘Me too. Thank you. It’s delicious.’

‘Good.’ She smooths a stray hair from Alice’s eyes. ‘Madam’s had a bad couple of nights. We don’t seem to be able to do bedtime without a temper tantrum lately, do we, poppet?’ She touches a red mark on her cheek that she must have noticed I’d been staring at.

It makes my stomach drop in worry. ‘Alice did that?’ Is this a version of the I-walked-into-a-door excuse? Alice herself is holding a little pink pig, which she squeezes so it lets out a squeak and makes her giggle. It doesn’t seem the right moment to ask Eliza if her husband has been extra busy stalking his ex-girlfriends and murdering his ex-wives while beating his latest partner in between.

Eliza looks down at the grass as she says, ‘Never underestimate the strength of a squirming toddler.’

‘Swings,’ Alice says, and Eliza bends to release her from the pushchair, kissing the top of her head before plonking her into a toddler swing with safety bars.

While she pushes, I tell Eliza about a make-your-own-pizza restaurant that a patient’s father mentioned. ‘I thought you and Alice might enjoy it. Sounds fun.’

‘Meet us there tomorrow for an early dinner,’ she says. ‘I could so use the break.’

‘Will your husband come along?’ How can I get her to talk about Zac?