Lee’s nice. He’s straightened all the pictures and wiped the fireplace over. I take the family portrait from the wall behind me and rest it on the sofa. It’s a shame, because it’s a beautiful portrait. But it can’t stay. Things have changed and I need renewal. It’s left a huge pale mark in the disgustingly dirty wallpaper and I resolve to get it decorated. I wonder if Lee does decorating?

I go into the kitchen and open the cupboards one by one. There are still some small boxes but they will wait until another day.

Chapter Forty-three

On Thursday the social worker comes round and looks at the house in all its newly cleaned glory. It feels opulent and new, even though I’ve lived here for a long time. I’ve splashed out and bought a tablet each for the children and I show her their rooms.

My tummy still feels a little bit fluttery when I go in there, like it’s not going to happen, but she assures me that it’s all set for tomorrow and that Emma will drop them off in the morning. I’ve told Eileen the good news and she has spread the word. Fiona texts me to tell me that she’ll be round over the weekend and a couple of school friends have invited me to a night out, a kind of reunion, which I suspect they have hastily arranged to get the gossip.

When the social worker leaves, I take a screenshot of Emma’s life event on Facebook and the scan of our decree absolute and I put them together in a folder on my phone. I’m going to print them out on Monday and keep them safe if Jack tries to change anything. It’s sad. Sad that it’s come to this, but it’s my life now and I’m going to make sure I’m ready to defend myself in the future. I set about shovelling some soil into the hole and I’m about halfway done when I hear the doorbell. I answer, all dirty hands and grubby clothes, and it’s Lee.

‘Hi. I saw your car and I wondered if you needed …’

‘Yeah. Come in.’

We sit at the table while the kettle boils and he tells me about how he’s just organising a charity ball and would I like to go with him?

‘Is it a date?’

I hear my voice, slightly worried.

‘Yeah, it is. You see, I talked to my mate about you and he advised against the cupboard painting. Said I should take you out, treat you like a lady. So …’

I touch his hand gently and he doesn’t draw it away like Jack would.

‘Cupboard painting is just fine. But yes, I’ll go to the ball with you.’