‘I’m flying!’ Fergus yelled in agreement, as the swing soared up into the air. Craig had gone to meet an old magazine contact who wanted to discuss some possible feature ideas, and Frankie had taken Fergus down to the local playground where, joy of joys, they’d been able to get on his favourite swing without even having to wait.

‘Kick your feet out in front when you go up, that’s it,’ Frankie reminded him and pushed again. ‘Whee! You’re a rocket, shooting into space – you’re whizzing up to Mars!’

‘ROCKET!’ bellowed Fergus gleefully. ‘Harder, Mumma. Harder!’

Another push. ‘Wow! You’re a seagull zooming over the sea, hunting for fish!’ she cried.

‘I’m a PTERODACTYL!’ he replied, spreading his arms out wide as the swing arced up again. They’d just borrowed a library book about dinosaurs and it was his current bedtime reading favourite. They were both rapidly becoming experts on the subject.

‘Hold on tight, pterodactyl,’ Frankie warned as he wobbled within the sturdy safety bars of the swing, his chest banging against the front. She grabbed hold of the swing and put her hand on his little round tummy. ‘Ow. Are you okay, poppet? Do you want to stop?’

Fergus bucked in the seat, trying to make himself swing once more. ‘Again, Mumma. Don’t want to stop.’

‘Okay,’ Frankie said. ‘Get ready then, because it’s going to be a big one . . .’ She held on to the back and pulled him up slowly. ‘Hold very tight, because it’s going to be really, really big . . .’

Fergus squealed excitedly, kicking his legs. ‘Do it, Mumma. Do it!’

‘Are you sure you’re ready?’ Frankie teased. ‘Are you quite, quite sure?’

‘What an adorable little boy!’

Frankie almost let go of the swing, she was so shocked to hear the woman’s voice. The voice that had taunted her in nightmares all week, the voice she kept hearing in her head. He’s MY son. And I want him back!

‘Julia,’ she said, her heart thumping up into her throat as she glanced round and saw her there, the return of the Bad Fairy. She swallowed hard and set Fergus swinging, not wanting him to pick up on her panic. Oh God, oh God, she thought anxiously. What should I do? What should I DO?

‘We meet again,’ Julia said, smiling broadly as if they were old friends. Had she followed them there from the flat? Frankie wondered with a lurch. How long had she been watching? Had she seen Fergus joggle against the swing just now, when he wasn’t holding on?

‘Hi,’ Frankie said weakly, her heart fluttering like a dying butterfly.