‘But I’m his mother,’ Maddy protests.

It’s like banging on the door of a fortress. It makes her so angry that other people are now the guardians of information about her son. It makes her feel so unworthy.

‘If someone doesn’t want to be found, there’s not much you can do,’ Reeva says.

She rings off and Maddy presses her thumb and forefinger into the throbbing points on her forehead.

She keeps thinking about Jamie’s message. That word: Mum. And the way he said it. She can’t get it out of her head. Something primal is telling her that he needs her.

She’s been feeling so bruised since she came back from seeing Trent three days ago, that she’s convinced herself the only thing that will make her feel better is if she can find a way to let Jamie know she’s here. But how?

The low battery message prompts her to move to plug in her laptop, but her foot is numb from where she’s had it bent underneath her, and she limps over to the wall, feeling pathetic.

She opens the blinds fully to let the afternoon light in and she realises there’s a small balcony off the spare room she hasn’t used yet. Her stomach growls and she limps to the kitchenette, noticing that it’s a bit whiffy, and she pulls out the small bin. At home it’s Rey, the cleaner, who often deals with the trash and recycling. How will Trent have explained Maddy’s absence to nosy Rey? Or maybe Rey is on the long list of betrayers too and knew all about Trent and Helen.

Her phone buzzes with another incoming call and Maddy feels her heart beating a little faster when she sees it’s Manpreet. She lets the phone ring once, then twice more. She shouldn’t appear too keen, but whatever she does it’s hard not to feel uncool around Manpreet. She thinks of the expensive media consultant wafting around in her perfect Notting Hill home in something cashmere and gorgeous. She’s been trying, in her own way, to emulate Manpreet, who shares photographs that look like they’re from a glossy magazine shoot. Her life is filled with household-name celebrities so it had really been a thrill when Manpreet had agreed to take Maddy on as her baby client.

She feels her pulse racing as she presses the answer button.

They exchange a few pleasantries, but Maddy can hear the sound of waves crashing in the background.

‘Is that the sea?’ she asks, wondering whether she should share that she’s near the sea herself. Whenever she talks to Manpreet, she feels the competitive urge to point out what they have in common.

‘Oh, yes, we flew out to our place in the Maldives for Christmas,’ Manpreet says, as if that is something everyone does. ‘We just needed a break, you know?’

Don’t we all, Maddy thinks, wondering how it is that the super-rich don’t seem to worry about the rules or getting caught at all.