I wake up at two minutes past seven, alone. My head’s not killing me and I don’t feel sick. I’m not ravenously hungry from days of not eating because of the steak and chips I ate with Lee. That’s what happens when you let some of the alcohol drain from your system. No hangover central today. It feels good. I do feel a little bit elated, though, and I laugh to myself about the #allgirlstogether and the #cheatingbastard hashtags.

The TV’s still on low and I watch the news for a while. Last night somehow diffused my anger and now I feel lighter. This is no Premier Inn and I’m not sneaking out at the crack of dawn. I congratulate myself for making changes. It’s probably the right time to draw a line under this now. Go back to work. Go and meet social services.

It had to come to an end at some point and I haven’t lost. No. In many ways I’ve won, because everyone knows what a fucking cheating bastard Jack Atkinson is now. His infidelity has its own Facebook page. The journal is public knowledge and no one can prove that I’m involved. I don’t think Louise Shaw will say anything. She just wants to get this over with and have her baby. Marry her boyfriend. Live happily ever after.

If she does, I’ll just deny it. It’s my word against hers. I won’t be going looking for Jack again. He’s not with any of these women. He’s discarded them, just like he did with me. The sense of freedom I felt yesterday heightens with this decision and I feel fresh. I’m even considering not bothering to find Paula.

I fish my own mobile out of my bag and switch it on under the duvet. I feel like I have the strength to face it all now. There are sixteen missed calls from DS Percy. I listen to them in order. The first few are just concerned, asking me to get in touch. The tone gets more urgent as they go on and the last message a whisper.

‘Caroline. It’s DS Percy. Lorraine. Look. You really need to get in touch. Your husband’s gone public. Please contact me immediately.’

I look at the time of the message. Eight o’clock last night. Something catches my attention, a familiar voice. I stare at the TV screen. Jack’s in the background. His mother’s there too.

‘… so we just want her home. She’s not been well, you know, mentally. It’s all come to a head with her …’

Back to the reporter.