The fact that there was no trial because my dad – my abductor, who they’ve decided they have no reason to believe was working with anyone else – is now dead hangs unsaid in the air between us.

Karen clears her throat and stands up. ‘I think the best thing would be to call Ellie and maybe the police, and see what they think we should do. Meantime, don’t answer the phone and stay away from the windows at the front, OK? They can’t print photographs of you as you’re underage, but for now … it’s just better if you stay out of sight to be on the safe side, I think.’

I nod solemnly. ‘’kay.’

I go up to my room and gingerly pull the curtain back. Outside there’s a man in his mid-twenties talking on his mobile and an older, fatter man with two cameras slung around his neck.

There’s a knock on my bedroom door and Jesse comes in.

‘Hey,’ he says.

I smile. ‘Hey.’

‘How’s it going? Mum says the press have turned up.’

I sit down on the bed. ‘Apparently. It’s hard to see why they’d be interested in me. I was taken ages ago. I’m back, I’m fine. Nothing to see here. Nothing to say.’

Jesse sits down next to me.

‘They were around a lot too when you went. When you were taken.’

‘Really?’

‘Yeah. There were always police here then, helping us go out the back and stuff when I wanted to go to school, telling them to leave us alone if they came too close. There’s nothing the police can do about the press standing on the pavement if they’re not causing a disturbance, because that’s public property, but they can’t come into the garden.’

‘You remember that from when you were seven?’

‘Nah. Just looked it up online. So that I’ll know if any of them are overstepping the mark.’

I still haven’t quite got used to the notion of ‘online’ because I’m almost 100 per cent sure we didn’t have anything like that at home, but I nod sagely as if I know exactly what he means.

He puts his arm around me and I rest my head on his shoulder. ‘It’s OK,’ he says. ‘I’ll make sure they don’t bother you. I said I was going to take care of you, remember? I meant it.’

The next morning when I get up there are four people on the pavement outside the window – two men with cameras around their necks and two bored-looking young women holding takeaway coffees and fiddling with their phones.

One of the men looks up and catches my eye, making me dart back behind the curtain and giving me a strange sense of déjà-vu.

I have a shower and look at myself in the mirror, leaning in closely to examine my skin.