I could have told Fiona anytime, she was there for me, but I was scared. Scared she wouldn’t believe me. Scared she would think I had made it up. It had worked. Your plan had worked. I’d been treated badly and now I didn’t even bother mentioning it because who would believe me? Fiona talked to me about her partner and her dog and her drug-addict brother and her work and generally anything but me. I said hardly anything. But sometimes no words are needed.

I was thinner and I actually looked better than I had for ages. I smiled my way through the back-to-work interview and assured everyone that I was OK, I had just needed a rest and, yes, of course I was fighting to get my children back. Yes, it had all been a big mistake. Yes, Jack’s mother was looking after them. Yes, the best possible scenario.

I nodded and agreed and realised that I would have to hold it down at work. I would have to keep this make-believe world where life went on separate from my catastrophic personal life. Luckily for me, I loved my job. I loved research and I loved the money it gave me to use as a buffer against the world.

It looked like things had improved, but they really, really hadn’t. Almost immediately I stopped going into Charlie and Laura’s rooms; I haven’t been in either room since. It was as if going in would break all the good work I was doing; making myself strong for when the day came that I was able to pick up the phone and ask your mother if I could see them.

I’d need all my strength because I knew she’d refuse and I’d have to repeat it, make a record of it, save it all up for my solicitor. Take it back to the social worker. Hadn’t I carried on working? Hadn’t I had supervision and counselling? Hadn’t I kept my side of the bargain and tried to see them, but hadn’t she obstructed me? I had it all planned.

Eventually I did phone. I was breezy and bright on the surface but anxiety was seething inside me as I heard the ringtone.

‘Melissa Atkinson.’

I listened to the background for them. For Laura’s sweet voice. Charlie’s laugh.

‘Melissa, it’s Caroline. I was wondering if I could pick the children up on Saturday?’

Be nice, Caroline. Play her game. Silence. Then she was chirpy.

‘Yes, of course. I’ll bring them to you. Shall we say ten o’clock?’

I couldn’t believe it. I choked up.

‘Oh, thank you, Melissa. Ten is just fine.’

I was already baking scones in my head. Little sandwiches and the lime jelly that Laura loves.

‘I’ll see you then.’