‘Sounds good,’ Sara said, liking the idea of tidying her worries to the back of her mind and enjoying some time out with Ezra. But her brain had other ideas and refused to switch off, her troubles going round on a continual loop in her head. Her daughters hated her and had problems of their own they were keeping secret. Matt thought she’d cheated on him and had thrown her out, splitting the family in two. As far as she could see, their relationship was over. On top of that, he was involved in a business that looked decidedly shady and might even have a connection to the abuse she’d suffered. She had no job, and still hadn’t decided what to do about her debt to James and the constant threat that he would tell Fiona and the police what she’d done. It was quite a list, and the more she studied it, the faster the thoughts went round until she felt like a child on a fairground ride, feeling sick and willing the experience to end.

They walked to the Cow and Calf in silence, Ezra running ahead of them, and it was clear that despite her words about enjoying the afternoon, Hailey was struggling with the situation too.

She had brought a bag full of picnic food – sandwiches, crisps and drinks – and they sat in the sun to eat, Ezra chattering away, his upset forgotten as he snuggled next to Sara. She tried to block out everything except her son, this lovely moment; wanted to believe they could still do normal family things, but she knew that her life had fractured, the cracks getting ever wider, and normal was a thing of the past.

Although she was desperate to discuss everything with Hailey, it would have to wait. Once Ezra was in bed this evening and Hailey was back from the football match, they could look at all the information they’d gathered and plan a way forward that wouldn’t involve the police. They both knew that the truth didn’t always lead to justice; that victims could be made to look like perpetrators. They’d seen it happen as children, when their mother was used as a scapegoat.

After their father’s death, their childhood had been punctuated by police visits. Often in the small hours of the morning, uniformed men bursting into whichever house they’d lived in with their mum at the time. The adults usually got dragged away, while Hailey and Sara were processed by friendly policewomen and social workers before being sent off to foster homes, often separated. Their mother had spent several short stints in prison for possession of drugs and shoplifting. When she was released, she’d get settled in a house and the children were allowed home. Until it happened again.