She was gone and I started to prepare. I cleaned and baked and hid the boxes – there weren’t so many of them back then – and it felt like a new beginning.

At ten o’clock on Saturday, I stood at the window at the top of the stairs and waited for her car. She arrived exactly on time, but without the children. She glided to the front door and knocked, checking her phone as she did so. I raced downstairs and opened it.

‘Where are they?’

She walked past me and stood at the kitchen table, looking at the food I had made.

‘You really are stupid, aren’t you?’

My pulse was banging in my ears and I nearly went for her. But I knew somehow that that was what she wanted – more reasons.

‘I have a right to see them. Jack wasn’t awarded custody. And neither were you.’

‘No. No, I wasn’t. But you’re a mess. Not fit to look after them.’

I moved closer to her.

‘I am fit to look after them. But you’re right. I am a mess. Your son has done this. And you’ve turned a blind fucking eye.’

She flinched. But then she turned suddenly and grabbed my arm.

‘You come anywhere near me and I’ll make sure you are charged with harassment. Come anywhere near those children and I’ll have you arrested for assaulting me. You can’t win this, Caroline, so leave it.’

I faced it out.

‘I’ll never leave it. I’ll never leave my children.’

She let me go heavily and I fell backward against the table.

‘Well, it’s stalemate, then. But the problem is you’re already disadvantaged. Let’s see what else you have. Let’s see it, Caroline.’

She left and slammed the door.

But I still haven’t been in those rooms a year later. Because I thought I had the strength, but when I phoned her again she wouldn’t speak to me. I hadn’t included that in my plan. I almost kept ringing over and over again but realised just in time that it was what she wanted. Harassment. Anything she could bring to discredit me. If she wouldn’t speak to me, we couldn’t make an arrangement so I couldn’t say she had broken it.

Naturally, I called social services and asked them to intervene but they just said that they thought we could ‘sort it out’ amongst ourselves and made appointments that were constantly cancelled because Melissa and Jack couldn’t make it.

So on and on it went until I no longer picked up the phone. I planned more and drank more and soon I had a plan but was too pissed to carry it out. I’ve just been reeling from being so drunk that I’ve only a vague recollection of what I’ve done to produce a brilliant piece of work for my department.