In the middle of all the revelations and shockers that the last couple of days had brought, I hadn’t thought of this. I’d assumed – ha – assume makes an ass out of you and me – that you had only been back a few days. But why? Why, if you were back and living in one of those posh, spacious apartments, hadn’t you claimed Charlie and Laura? Wouldn’t that strengthen your case against me, make me look worse? I stare vacantly at her, listening to ‘Lewis’ close Charlie’s door and stomp across the landing. I need to say something or she will start to suspect I’m withholding.

‘I don’t know. I had no idea he was back. I don’t keep up with his movements. To be honest, it takes me all my time to look after myself. As you can see.’

Despite myself, I break down. I might be lying through my back teeth, but some of it is painfully true. I sob deeply and she puts her arms around me. I don’t want this. I don’t want her close. Taking an interest. It’s the wrong thing. But I can’t stop the tears.

She gets me a tissue and I blow my nose. She passes me my tea and sips hers. Lewis is in the bathroom now, struggling with the bath panel. I know how he feels, because that used to be a hiding place before I started to use the hole. All cleared now, just like the rest of the house. DS Percy’s features are soft and sympathetic and I can see that she’s trying to decide whether to say something. She eventually does.

‘Look, I shouldn’t really ask you this, but it’s been puzzling me. And when I saw those …’ She points to a huge pile of unopened mail. I never open mail. Never. I do all my banking over the internet and my pay slips arrive by email. ‘Well, the other day when I saw those I wondered if you had contacted social services.’

Social fucking services? This is a new one.

‘I have. At the beginning. But they just told me to make an arrangement with Jack and his mother, and they wouldn’t speak to me. So … No. Not since then.’ But I do see my children. Every day that I can. Lunchtimes. Spaces between research meetings. I want to tell her that I watch them from a distance, willing them to feel my love. ‘Nothing’s wrong, is it?’

I know nothing is wrong because if it was your fucking mother would have been telling me through the door yesterday, playing the martyr, reminding me how I’d ‘lost’ my children because everything is win or lose to her. DS Percy – call me Lorraine – panics.

‘Oh God, no. It’s just that, well, I don’t know if I should say …’