There’s a shocked silence. I can’t quite believe I’ve said it. I dare not look at Mum. I’m not a confrontational person. It must be my pregnancy hormones. Even so, I know that’s how I really feel and have felt for years. It’s actually a relief to get it out.

We continue driving in a tense, uncomfortable silence. My legs are trembling. From the corner of my eye I see Mum wipe a tear from her cheek and I’m consumed by guilt.

‘I’m sorry,’ I say. ‘I didn’t mean all that.’

‘Yes, you did,’ says Mum quietly.

‘It’s my hormones. I just feel so, so . . . angry!’

‘I know.’ She flashes me a watery-eyed smile. ‘And I agree I haven’t always been the best mother. I’ve made mistakes –’

‘Mum, don’t!’

‘It’s true, and you will too. Whatever you think now. But I never regretted having you. Not for one second. I’d hate you to think that.’

I swallow the lump that’s formed in my throat.

By now we’ve reached Elm Brook and I pull into the car park.

As I push the gearstick into neutral Mum covers my hand with hers. ‘Are we okay?’

‘Of course,’ I say. If I feel trepidation at the thought of having a baby at twenty-four I can only imagine how scary it must have been for my sixteen-year-old mother. I should never have said those awful things.

Joy greets us at the door with her usual harassed air. She looks more stressed than normal, but I can appreciate why. She’s probably never had to contend with police coming over to interview one of her residents before.

Mum is sombre as we gather in the lobby. The ugly swirly carpet is making me feel sick.

‘Are the police here?’ Mum asks Joy.

‘In there.’ Joy indicates the room we were in last time. ‘I’ll go and get Rose. She’s still in her bedroom at the moment. She didn’t have a very good night. I’ll bring some tea.’

Anxiety pools in my stomach. ‘In what way didn’t she have a good night?’ I ask.

‘She kept waking up, crying out. It happens sometimes. They forget where they are. Anyway, if you don’t mind going in there,’ she pushes the door open and stands against it so we can go past her, ‘I’ll get Rose now.’

DS Barnes is already in the room, with someone else this time, a woman around my age. They are seated in the same armchairs at either side of the fireplace and stand up when we enter. He introduces the woman as DC Lucinda Webb. She has a coppery mane that spills over the shoulders of her patterned blouse. I notice Joy has put out only two extra chairs this time.

‘You sit here,’ says Mum, indicating one of the chairs. ‘I’m okay to stand.’