Dad took my hand and squeezed it. ‘And I hope you will, my darling Laura. In the future, you will have all those things, if you want to. But for now, you’re too young, and you’re safer here with me. Where no one can hurt you.’ He squeezed my hand again. ‘’kay?’

I squeezed back. ‘’kay,’ I replied, but I still felt a little weird.

I willed the next few days to pass, wondering when the washing machine boy would be back. I’d thought about him often when I was alone in my room. And when Dad finally told me he had an appointment that afternoon, I knew it was time.

Up in my room I put on my favourite top (red) and brushed my waist-length mousy hair. It was starting to look quite straggly at the ends – it hadn’t been cut for years. I’d never been to a hairdresser. When I was little, Dad would cut it now and again. But then one day I told him I wanted to leave it long so he stopped and since then it’s been left to grow.

I stood by the window and waited, barely breathing I was so nervous.

About an hour later, by which time my feet had gone numb and I had a crick in my neck, I heard the crunch of a van coming down the drive. My breath caught in my throat and I pushed the curtain further back to improve my view.

This time, he spotted me as soon as he got out of the van and waved. I waved back, beaming at him. I held my breath, wondering if perhaps he would call up to me, both hoping and dreading that he would (what if Dad heard? What would he do if he did?) but he turned away and lifted a box out of the van. I watched his forearms flex as he moved, which gave me the same feeling low down in my stomach as before.

I waited by the window while he did whatever he needed to do to the washing machine and about half an hour later he reappeared on the drive. I held my breath as I saw Dad sign the docket and then pulled the curtain back a little more to be sure the boy would see me as he left.

He looked up and smiled. I felt myself go bright red but even so, smiled and tossed my hair slightly, like I’d seen women do in films sometimes.

‘What’s your name?’ he called out, which made my stomach lurch with both panic and excitement. I put my finger to my lips in the ‘be quiet’ sign, and shook my head.

He shrugged, turned away and walked back towards his van.