From the trees on our right, Rowan emerged slowly with a man I didn’t recognise at her side. He was young, maybe early twenties, slim and clean-shaven, holding a police ID wallet open in front of him so that Jennifer could see it. He said something in French to Jennifer but she gave him barely a glance before turning her attention back to me.

‘Promise me, Kate.’

‘I promise,’ I said, my voice cracking. ‘I’ll do anything, please.’

‘Swear it on your son’s life.’

‘I swear on his life. I won’t say a word, not to anyone.’

Daniel suddenly seemed to wobble on the edge and for a second I thought he would pull her over with him, but she braced herself and pulled him back at the last second.

‘Oh God, please just let him go, Jen!’

I would have told her anything, anything, to step away from the edge and give my son back to me. She seemed to sense it too.

The young policeman said something to her in rapid-fire French again.

Rowan said, ‘The detective says step away from the side, Jennifer.’

But Jennifer was staring at me.

‘Izzy was going to tell you, she was going to lay it all out for you. I couldn’t let that happen, but she wouldn’t listen to reason. She just refused to see my side of it, Jake’s side of it.’ Her voice took on a hard, unyielding tone. ‘I didn’t mean to . . . what happened wasn’t what you think. She just slipped.’

‘I believe you, Jennifer. I do.’

‘Do you really?’

‘Absolutely. Of course.’

She smiled, just for a second, before it faltered and died on her lips. ‘You know what, Kate? You’ve always been too honest. Too straight-laced. And you’ve always been a crappy liar.’

‘I’m not lying!’

The sky flashed with lightning, another blast of thunder ripping over our heads.

In that instant another figure burst from the trees on our left, a stocky, bearded man in a jacket and jeans, sprinting hard at Jennifer and Daniel with his arms outstretched.

Everything seems to slide into slow motion.

The bearded man’s jacket flies up to reveal a pistol and handcuffs on his belt. Commands shouted in French. Now he’s losing his footing on the sodden ground, stumbling forward, lunging with open hands, trying to grab something, anything, to stop the child going over – but he’s too slow, too late, the yards between them too far. I’m starting forward, my feet leaden. Jennifer turns towards the bearded man, flinching backwards. The other policeman lunges forward too, hands grabbing at her, grasping her arm and reaching across her chest.