‘Great!’ said Julia, clapping her hands together. ‘Well, I’ll have to get the details from you sometime.’ She smiled widely. She was an attractive woman, toned and healthy-looking, wearing a turquoise kaftan-style top, spotless white cut-off jeans and sparkly silver flip-flops. In the past Craig had told Frankie that Julia was depressive and unpredictable – ‘unhinged’ was a word he’d used – but she looked completely normal to Frankie. Radiant, even. But what did she mean, about getting the playgroup details from them? Surely she wasn’t saying . . . ?

Frankie swung questioningly towards Craig, who was scowling and shaking his head at his ex. ‘Julia – no,’ he said. ‘You can’t just walk in here and—’

‘Oh, but I can,’ she said, and suddenly her smile was as toothy and gleaming as a crocodile’s. ‘Because I’m his mother.’ Her eyes glittered and the temperature in the room seemed to plunge. ‘You’ve had him for four years. I think it’s my turn now, don’t you?’

‘What?’ cried Frankie in anguish, just as Craig said, ‘Julia—’ again, in a tone of voice that Frankie had never heard before, one so stern and terrible that it chilled her to the marrow.

A whimper escaped from Frankie’s throat because, deep down, there was a part of her that had always known this day would come: that Fergus’s real mother would return, seeking some kind of reparation, and stake a claim. He’s mine. Not yours. And even though Frankie loved every last inch of that little boy, she couldn’t escape the fact that he wasn’t hers. Not properly. Not according to the paperwork. She’d only ever had him on loan. And if Julia wanted to be back in Fergus’s life, get to know him anew, then how could Frankie deny her that privilege?

She stared fearfully at Julia, wondering how Fergus would feel about all this. He would be confused. He thought she was his mummy. How would they explain it to him? And was it selfish and pathetic of Frankie to be worrying already that he would love Julia more than her?

‘I’ve had a lovely chat with the people at the Citizens Advice Bureau,’ Julia was saying, and Frankie jolted back to the room, ‘and they told me: a mother’s rights are sacred. A mother’s rights have more weight than a father’s rights. And while I couldn’t cope before, that was because I was ill. I had some problems. But I’m better now, and I’m ready to pick up where I left off.’