‘Who is it?’ James appeared behind me.

‘No one,’ I said. ‘Just Bob from the dairy.’ My voice was unsteady.

James walked down the hall away from me. ‘I’ll put the kettle on.’

I didn’t want tea; I just wanted my children. Crouched down in the corner of the hall like a wounded animal, I promised God, I promised everyone and anyone who came to mind that I would stay at home for ever, never let the kids out of my sight, never stray from the house again, never crave anything else, if they could just come home safely.

‘Please, please,’ I intoned, ‘please let them be all right.’

Danny’s words kept ringing in my ears; his warning that Kattan would turn nasty. But the kids had kissed the man, my mother said, so it couldn’t have been Kattan – could it? Why hadn’t I listened? Why hadn’t I been more sensible? I cursed myself, over and over again; I cursed myself.

James came back out into the hall and I realised I’d been talking aloud, mumbling like a mad old woman, rocking back and forth where I sat.

‘Leave me alone,’ I said, refusing to let him pull me up. ‘I’m staying here until they come home.’

I was almost dozing, my head on my knees, the phone by my feet, silent now, despite having rung every person in the world I could think of that might possibly be able to help. Outside, the afternoon was drawing in, the March wind buffeting the windows without mercy. The magnolia tree had bloomed, but the flowers could never withstand the severity of the weather: the petals were already scattered on the grass.

As the church bell chimed four, I thought I heard something. My head shot up and I stood as quickly as my stiff legs would let me, my freezing feet all pins and needles. A vehicle was pulling into our drive as I tore open the door again.

‘Liam.’ I saw him striding across the gravel from the big Hummer. ‘Liam!’

I felt the most almighty stab of disappointment and then, as if in a dream, I saw my eldest child’s head pop up from the back seat and wind down the window.

‘Alicia!’ I yelled.

‘Shhh,’ she gestured, pointing at something and giggling. ‘The twins are asleep.’

I ran across the gravel in my bare feet, dressing gown trailing, and scrabbled at the car door, breaking my nails, sweeping my eldest daughter down from the back seat and into my arms. Effie opened one eye groggily and I leaned over and unfastened her baby-seat, squashing Alicia’s head in the process. Fred was fast asleep on the far side, thumb in his mouth, slumped over the seat belt, head lolling uncomfortably.

‘Ouch, Mum, you’re hurting me,’ Alicia said, wriggling crossly. ‘Mum! Get off.’