I’ve been here once before on a works outing and it’s pleasant, with an open fire and pub food. I check in as Carol Lord and bring in made-up Monica’s laptop and the flash drive. I unpack and half an hour later I’m sitting in a Queen Anne chair in front of a log fire. The pub is quiet and I order sausages and mash.

While I’m waiting, I check that location is definitely off on this laptop, then I make three email addresses, one each for Alicia, Lorna and Louise. I prepare profile pictures from the scanned journal photos and make a Facebook account for all three of them. Then I set about making a history for them. I post ‘life events’ and copy pictures from random Facebook profiles and soon they all have make-believe lives. It takes me about an hour, including eating the sausages and mash, and when I’m finished I’m very pleased indeed with my work.

Naturally, I’ll have to be careful, because DS Percy will believe that she’s got made-up Monica. Your mother will be in the frame for that and I don’t want to detract from the good work I’ve done there. These will be more of a personal campaign. More of a support group. Instead of working against the tide, I’m going to work with it and give everyone else a chance to say how they feel about Jack Atkinson. Test Pam’s theory that we’re all on the same side. Why should it be just me?

I make Alicia the poster, as she’s the one who hasn’t actually got a Facebook account, so she won’t see it.

‘Never thought Jack was like this #shocked #ifyoucantbeat themjointhem #manshaming,’ I post a nice picture of them looking into each other’s eyes. I look through the photographs for another suitable one and I stop at a scene in a restaurant. He’s there. So is Alicia. So are our ‘friends’ Lucy and Kieron. All smiling. Alicia is holding up her hand and there’s a ring on the third finger of her left hand.

I see red and slam down the lid of the laptop. An older couple in the corner look at me in disgust and I remember that I shouldn’t be drawing attention to myself. When my heartbeat returns to normal, I look again. I enlarge the picture and, yes, it’s my grandmother’s engagement ring. The one that went missing out of my jewellery box.

It was claimed on the insurance and we spent the money on a nice camera. For the family. I never saw the camera again. It was all bells and whistles, timers and filters. Now I know what it was for.

I write another status for Alicia.