Finally there’s a rustling in the wings. Beth looks up and lets out a silent sigh of relief as the parents around her shift their gaze to the stage too. She even smiles a little as a line of five- and six-year-olds walk dutifully onto the stage and into their pre-agreed positions. All the children are wearing white clothes with bits of silver tinsel hanging around their necks and wrists, or wound into French plaits or pigtail buns. The effect is beautiful, a broad brushstroke of innocence, and Beth feels tears smart at her eyes. Ava is stood almost directly opposite – one of the benefits of knowing their positions in advance – and she gives her daughter the widest smile she can manage. It seems to be enough, and Ava gives her a quick clandestine wave in response.

The music teacher takes up her position at the piano and soon a multitude of off-pitch voices fill the room. The half-an-hour performance starts with ‘Away in the Manger’ (of course) and ends with a rousing rendition of ‘Twelve Days of Christmas’, which the parents are invited to join in with (Beth doesn’t). There’s a solo in the middle – Ava’s best friend Chloe, who is luckily a better singer than football player – and a short speech by the head of lower school wishing everyone a happy 2022. Beth wonders whether that will be true for her. If she can somehow navigate a path through her estranged parents, an angry stalker and a growing dependence on prescription drugs. She takes a deep breath. She’s dealt with adversity before, very effectively, and she will do it again.

There are coffees and mince pies laid on between shows and Beth gets caught in the general tide moving in that direction. But she wants neither and eyes the fire door instead, wondering if she can hide outside until Martha’s concert starts. But before she gets chance to escape, she hears someone calling her name. Saskia has spotted her – she must have just arrived – and is holding up two cups like a peace offering. With a sigh, Beth shuffles over to her friend. She takes a deep breath, blinks and arranges her face into a warm smile. ‘Sorry about yesterday,’ she starts. ‘I was tired. I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.’

‘Nothing to apologise for,’ Saskia counters, shaking her head. She eyes a plate of mince pies, then looks away. ‘It must be awful, feeling like someone’s watching you all the time.’

‘It’s not that bad.’

‘I saw the detective leaving yours. You know, the police are tragically ineffective in stalking cases.’ She sighs. ‘But I’m still glad you called them. Are you going to get a restraining order? It’s a legal faff, but I can help you with it. Then the police might actually be able to do something worthwhile.’