Suddenly, I’m full of remorse. I wrap my arms round him, trying to get my voice to calm down. ‘I’m so sorry. You’re right, but it just scares me, your eyes looking like that. I didn’t mean anything, and I know you only wanted to make me laugh. Oh, please stop crying, sweetheart, please!’

I have to use every trick in the book to calm him down, anxiety rising in me all the time. I crush him to me until the fight goes out of him. At last he goes limp in my arms, head falling on my shoulder, and then I can kiss him and wipe away all his tears. ‘I’m sorry,’ I whisper, again.

Later, when he falls asleep, I finally give in to my exhaustion. I have to stop thinking about the Facebook group, I need to try and switch off. Look what a state I got me and Charlie in. I have to do better, I have to get some rest. I run myself a bath, the rarest of treats. This isn’t on my list of strategies but now I think, why isn’t it? It should be. After all, water has always helped me. The bath is only lukewarm, though; I can’t really afford to use too much hot water. I can feel the bumps of my spine against the enamel when I lie back, the ridges of my pelvis too. I wonder if I’ve lost a bit of weight recently, but really all I care about is closing my eyes. Held in the water like this, maybe I could sleep.

I open my eyes, sure I heard a noise, out in the hallway. Where I left my phone to charge. It is ringing, I’m certain of it. Positive this time that it isn’t just my imagination. I push myself up out of the bath, my arms strangely weak, leaving puddles on the floor as I wrap myself in a towel.

My wet hair is freezing on my shoulders as I reach my phone and swipe to answer, standing there in bare feet in the hallway.

‘Hello?’

‘Hello … This is Marianne Fowler.’ The voice is brisk, curious. ‘I saw your message in the Facebook group. First time anyone’s posted there in a while.’

‘Oh my goodness … Marianne?’ Her face comes back to me in a flash. Cropped brown hair, glasses, a wide chin. Marianne Fowler, lead administrator for the civil service office. Knowledgeable, reliable; I remember how I looked up to her back then.

‘Yes. Hello there, Jennifer.’

Even now, she remembers me.

I sink down onto the hallway chair. My legs feel weak, goose-bumped in the cold. There is no going back. I have stepped outside of my small, restricted world, and reached out into the big wide beyond.

‘So you’re trying to get in touch with Sarah?’ she says, her tone calm and business-like.