Of course, it does add up. The missing bag, delivered here. The pictures. The journal. You would have had to go through the embarrassing motions of explaining what was in the journal. Who knows? They could look back over the old casenotes and see that, in fact, I was telling the truth. What then?

But it doesn’t quell the horrible feeling that my time is up. That I’m eventually going to be arrested for theft. Fraud, probably. I grab a bottle of very cheap wine from my cooking rack and sink down behind the front door. I open the wine and gulp it down. The lull washes over me, then the sharpness hits. I take another big swig and someone’s banging on the door.

I sit stock still with my feet on a pile of unopened DVDs. Another hard knock. The footsteps around the side. Oh God. What if that’s them? Come to arrest me for spending someone’s cheating fucking husband’s money? But it isn’t.

‘Caroline. Caroline, I know you’re in there. Open the door.’

It’s your mother. No doubt she’s here to side with you like she did before. Telling me I’ve always been a bit unbalanced and why don’t I keep my mouth shut, or you will leave.

‘Caroline, open this door now. I need to talk to you.’ Silence for a moment. ‘I’ve got the children here.’

The children. That old chestnut. Most of me knows she hasn’t got the children there. But it’s positive reinforcement and I’m reaching for the switch that flicks on the CCTV screen across from the door. It’s one of the only Amazon purchases that I’ve actually used. I search the screen for my children, but, of course, they’re not there.

I take another, larger swig of the wine and she’s banging again.

‘Have it your way, then. But you’re in big trouble, lady. Big trouble. Jack’s going to press charges this time. Properly. Not the civil courts. No injunctions. You’ll end up in prison.’

I tell her to fuck off under my breath. What does she know? Her cosy little chats with you will have, like always, opened up only one side of the story. Your side. No doubt Charlie and Laura have been brainwashed by how great their absent father is and how bad their crazy mother is.

They said it would only be for a few months. Till I got myself sorted out. It’s been a year. A full year. As if to confirm it I glance at the calendar, which is, like everything else here, and my whole fucking life, stuck on that day a full year ago.