Maybe Louise was right: I need to let it go. Get over it. But I saw that look in Katy’s eye. The fear. Mistrust of everyone and everything. I recognise it. She’s been through the same thing as me and I can help her.

I hurry around the corner and knock on the door of the house behind the red car. Katy opens it straight away and looks at me blankly.

‘Are you wanting an interview? Only I’ve given an exclusive to—’

‘It’s me. Caroline.’

She steps back, tries to push the heavy door shut, but I shove my foot in it, and yelp when it crushes it.

‘Look, I only want to talk to you. Can’t we be civilised about this?’ She’s hesitant, looking into the house, she’s obviously alone. ‘I saw you on the news. I heard what you said.’

She opens the door slightly and I pull my foot out.

‘Go away. I don’t want anything to do with this. Or you. I’ve got a child and …’

Go on say it. And you’re fucking mad. I can see it on her face.

‘Whatever he’s told you, it’s wrong. He did the same to me as he’s doing to you. Lying. Come on, Katy, can’t you see that?’

She looks uncertain now, backs away.

‘The police are looking for you. You’re not in trouble. That policewoman is worried about you. She said you were upset over some journal.’

I correct her.

‘I’m upset because Jack’s accusing me of stealing it. Somebody else has it and they’ve been posting the contents on Facebook. To be honest, it’s crucified me.’

‘And what do you want from me?’

‘I don’t know. I’m not entirely sure why I’m here. But all I know is that I think you’ve gone through the same as me. And I have no one else who knows what that’s like.’

I listen for the sound of a small child. Jamie’s clearly not here and I bet he’s with him, playing happy fucking families. In the background to all this fuckery is me as a bad mother. When I tell people Jack has taken the children, their faces say: Probably for the best. But it isn’t for the best. I’m not perfect, but I love my kids. I’m not using them as pawns in a power game the way Jack is. I genuinely want them back.

Katy stands back and I enter. Her house is beautiful and she gestures for me to sit down. There are pictures of Jamie everywhere.

‘So. Your son looks a lot like Jack.’

She looks away. She’s unsure. It’s clear.

‘Jack’s his father. That’s what you would expect.’

I nod.

‘My children don’t look like him. They look more like me. Without the wig, of course.’