‘Heart attack. She’d had a good innings.’ Vanessa remembered that Billy’s mom had had him later in life, so she had been older than all of his friends’ parents.

‘I’m sorry if this is forward, but are you OK?’ Billy asked. ‘I can’t help but notice the fading bruises on your face and the finger marks on your wrist.’ Vanessa glanced at her wrist, pulling her sleeve down to the middle of her hand. ‘Vanessa, are you in some kind of trouble? Is it Mark?’

It was public knowledge that she had married Mark right out of school when she was pregnant.

Vanessa looked around, as if afraid that Mark would come running down the street to hurt her. She had spent so long in hiding, hiding her bruises, hiding her broken bones, hiding who she was, that it was difficult for her to open up to anyone, yet she felt a calm settle over her, the uneasy feeling lifting. There was something about Billy, there always had been. ‘I… I… uh. I don’t know what to say.’ She looked down at her bitten-down fingernails – a stress-related thing.

‘Tell me the truth,’ he encouraged gently.

‘The truth? I’ve not told many people the truth, only one person actually. Mark… he… he hits me sometimes.’ There! She’d said it out loud to Billy, and she felt like a weight had lifted from her shoulders. ‘Sometimes’ was an understatement.

He reached out and drew her into a gentle hug, before wrapping his long arms firmly around her. She was aware that they were near the bar and Mark could catch them at any moment, but she felt so comforted wrapped in Billy’s embrace that she began to cry softly. He rubbed her back, soothing her, much like what she did with Wren when he was upset. It worked. Her soft sobs tapered off. She stepped out of his embrace.

‘God, how embarrassing. I’m so sorry, Billy. I’m mortified.’ Vanessa rubbed the remainder of the tears from her eyes, wishing she could rub the shame from them too.

‘Don’t be. Let me ask another question. Would you leave him if you had somewhere to go?’

She didn’t even need to think about it. It had come to the point where she just had to leave. She didn’t mention the already packed suitcases hidden away at home for the day she built the nerve. She needed to protect both her children: they were the most important thing to her.

She nodded slowly. ‘I think he’s going to kill me one day,’ she whispered.

‘Well that solves it then. I’m helping you move out. Tonight.’

‘What?’