Before all that, though, the boy, still shaking after nearly racing his runaway pushbike into her Punto, holds out his hand and she shakes it. He thanks her for rushing forward and stopping his bike. She tells him to be careful in future. Running a hand through his floppy ginger hair, he remarks that kids are tough and he would have been fine. He’s a good-looking boy and she hopes to have one like him if she can’t strike lucky with a daughter. Far from here, though. And when she gets her life back on track, and these demons from her mind.

Perhaps sensing that he’s being rude, he says, ‘I’m lucky you was here, countess. I was gonna have a smash.’ Thankfully, he doesn’t ask why she’s here. ‘Maybe you should never leave and make sure nothing else happens to me.’

‘I can’t. I have to go soon. But I have something for you. A present…’

She was snapped out of the dream – the nightmare – by Ball Cap shaking her. Daylight streamed into the mouth. Amazingly, she had slept until morning. Deep enough to slip back into a dark period of her life.

‘Hey, what’s this?’ he said as he snatched up the electronic tablet.

‘No, don’t you look at that.’

But he sat back and looked, and he showed Dominic, who was rubbing sweet sleep from his face.

‘Put it down. Don’t you look at it.’

‘Mess this up and pictures are all you’ll have left,’ he said, turning the tablet so she could see him tap the picture of Josie.

In the night, strangely not in the mood to watch cats falling off walls, she had logged in to Facebook, using her nose to cycle through pictures of Josie. But then she must have fallen asleep with one still onscreen.

He tossed the tablet aside and ordered her out. He watched her struggle, laughing, until Dominic told him to untie her and stop messing about.

Seated and trying to ignore the pain from arms locked behind her all night, she was ordered to wash and given a packet of baby wet wipes. Dominic was reading a newspaper, but Ball Cap watched her scrape away tear residue and dirt from the boot. She realised she hadn’t showered since the morning of the day before yesterday, just before taking Josie to school. This time, for the first time since the nightmare kick-started, picturing her little lady didn’t come with a wave of dread. She knew what that meant.

‘Hey! I said: you didn’t try to run, then?’

‘I want my daughter,’ she said with confidence borne of the knowledge that she would have her Josie back soon. She looked into his eyes. ‘You could even send me for breakfast.’

He laughed. ‘Comb your hair. You look like a whore who had a killer night.’