And worse than that, he might well push her aside. Force his way in. Rush upstairs and disturb Lottie. He’d done it before. The potential pay-off just didn’t justify the risks. Keep him out. That was best. Encourage him to go.

Megan noticed that her hands were trembling as she re-entered her daughter’s bedroom seconds later, her gut twisting and her heart thumping in her throat. She clenched her jaw as she knelt on the bed, urging herself on, rather than giving in to the temptation to curl up in a ball and cry.

She threw back the curtains, opened the window wide and glared down at her ex-husband, as he turned away from the door and began kicking it mule style. Megan watched, feeling a mix of anger and grief as her ex stumbled forwards, almost falling before regaining his footing, a look of triumph on his unshaven face. She shook her head slowly to the right and left, shouting just about loud enough to ensure he heard her in the street below. ‘What the hell do you think you’re doing?’

He peered up at her, hands held wide, palms forward. ‘So you’ve finally heard me, have you, you stuck-up bitch?’ He burped at full volume. ‘It’s about fucking time.’

Megan’s reply was immediate. ‘Oh, the entire street has heard you, Dale. It’s past two in the morning, in case you hadn’t realised. And you’ve woken Lottie. She’s five years old, for goodness’ sake. What were you thinking?’

‘What’s the problem? She wants her daddy, that’s all.’

‘Are you completely deranged? You’ve scared her! She’s lying in bed, crying her eyes out because of you. And she doesn’t want to hear her mother called a bitch. It upsets her like it upsets me. What part of that don’t you understand?’

He peered up with a drunken, supercilious smirk that Megan found infuriating. She knew exactly what was coming next. It was a tactic he used often, good guy and bad guy all rolled into one, anger followed by pleading, as predictable as night and day. ‘Just open the fucking door, there’s a good girl. Please, I’ve only had a couple of pints. I’ll soon cheer Lottie up.’ He took a bag of sweets from a jacket pocket, holding them up in clear view, shaking the packet above his head as if they were the most fabulous prize in the world. ‘I’ve bought her some sweets, jelly babies, her favourites. Come on, open up. She wants to see her daddy.’

Megan closed her tired eyes for a beat before speaking again, holding the window frame with a white-knuckle grip, digging in her nails, taking out her frustrations on the plastic. ‘You can’t be here, Dale. Have you forgotten the injunction? Do you remember what the judge said? Look around you. People are putting their lights on. Curtains are opening. I suggest you sod off home before someone calls the police. Because someone will, they definitely will. It’s just a matter of time.’