I haven’t. But it’s news – the Premier Inn robberies, anyway. I read about Allan Parrott, a loner who has previous convictions for stalking. How the common link between Brian Patterson and Peter Daubney is ‘a woman they both knew’. Thankfully, it doesn’t say ‘ex-wife of the man at the centre of the #allgirlstogether #cheatingbastard viral’.

I can’t help but look up what’s being reported about Jack. I search his name and there are various appeals for privacy from his solicitor and a denial that he had anything to do with it. Another ex has obviously sold her story to a tabloid and she’s posing in an animal-print bikini. The incredible thing is that, save some references to Jack Atkinson’s wife, I haven’t been named.

Katy sits beside me. Jamie’s gone off to his gran’s in case Jack turns up and there’s any unpleasantness. At least Katy’s got her mum on her side. She looks tired but I can’t resist.

‘So he marked us all out of ten, did he?’

‘Yeah. It was as if he wanted to make me suffer. He always told me how you were ‘the best he ever had’. He told me that after Laura was born you went off sex. That’s why he turned to other women. He used to go through them and describe them. It was awful. It made me feel like I had to try harder. To be honest, if I hadn’t got pregnant I would have ended it. But he begged me not to. And you know the rest.’

I feel a strange elation that I am a ten. But Katy said that there was another ten. My rational self knows it’s all bollocks but it’s gnawing at me. Who is the other fucking ten? I go through the journal, scanning my memory for another ten out of fucking perfect ten. The flash drive is hot in my hand but I daren’t look at it. Not here. It doesn’t make sense, unless this has affected me so deeply that it’s still some kind of validation. She continues.

‘I suppose I got used to it. The only thing that bothered me was that he kept going on about this particular woman. It was as if he … I don’t know … loved her. All the others he just laughed at. But her … I could tell she was different.’

I’m inexplicably seething again, but I push it down. Don’t rise to it, Caroline. Be strong.

‘Loved her?’

‘Yeah. He kind of worshipped her. Always saying how pretty she was, what a good heart she had. How he met her ages ago and he kept going back to her. The rest he called sluts and tramps. But his eyes changed when he talked about her. He gave her a—’