I can’t wait to have a proper look at Louise Shaw’s profile. I find her easily. She’s all tits and teeth, but when I look closer she’s not smiling with her eyes. Hair extensions and false nails. A pouty set of botoxed lips and an expensive fake tan. Some recent pictures with a guy who could be her brother. There are lots of pictures of her partying, but also lots of pictures of her linking arms with friends. Solidarity.

Envy flashes through me. I’ve got Fiona but I suddenly glimpse how it could have been for me with more support. But wasn’t I getting it now? I flick onto Twitter and #teamJack and #teamCaro are still battling it out. A few D-list celebs have got involved and someone from a reality show is making a rubbish argument for ‘men being men’.

Back on Facebook and Louise’s profile, I scan the background of the photographs, the ones in the city centre. All her friends are wearing suits, and when I look more closely I can see him in the background. Jack. Outside the courts. Hands in pockets. Quite far away in the distance. I can just make out Missy too. Bloody hell. She must have done something serious if Missy is there. But she’s a liar too.

She’s not the only mother who stands up for her son, but Missy is almost militant. It’s as if she needs, at all costs, to believe that her boy is innocent of everything and that it’s all the evil women who are corrupting him. And those two make such a wonderful team. She would say black was white if it meant not having to face the fact that her son is a lying bastard.

The shameful thing is that she must know. She must. It’s as if something started and it’s suddenly gained its own sordid momentum and she is carried away with it. She probably thinks it was loyalty, strength or defending her child. I’ve had much more time to think about it, though. Time on my own, holed up amongst my Amazon castle walls, time to think about this from all possible angles. It isn’t strength. It’s weakness.

Weakness. She’s unable to face who Jack really is. A bit like I was, really. I know her. I’ve watched her watch him and it isn’t with blindly adoring eyes. No. She knows what he’s up to and it takes all her will not to say a word about it. But Missy is all about saving face. Pulling up the drawbridge and building defences to make it look like everything is normal.