Then I remember Isobel. She said she lived in the village, at the vicarage. Maybe she’d let me charge my phone at her house. At least then I’d have some peace of mind. And besides, I could do with some company. The events of the morning have left me shaken and Isobel was so helpful yesterday. I feel like I can trust her. I start up the engine and type the address into the satnav. She’d given me it as she left, telling me to pop in for a cup of tea if I was ever in the vicinity.

I crawl at a snail’s pace through the village, noticing things now that I hadn’t the last time I was here, like the tiny play park on the left-hand side opposite the pub. I spot a wooden climbing frame and a brightly coloured slide. The sight of it makes me feel desperately sad. Joe loves the slide at his nursery school. He should be back there now having fun and playing with his friends. Instead he’s stuck with me, hiding out in some creepy house, terrified of every little sound.

The audiobook finishes as we reach the church. According to the satnav, Isobel’s house is just behind the graveyard.

‘Again,’ cries Joe from the seat behind me. ‘Play again.’

‘We just need to go see the nice lady first,’ I say as I stop the car outside a large Victorian house. ‘Then we can listen to it again on the way h–’

I’m about to say ‘home’ then stop myself. Nothing about that house is remotely like a home. In fact, it’s beginning to feel more like a prison.

‘Right, mister, let’s go,’ I say, trying to keep my voice bright as I get out of the car and open the passenger door.

‘Why we going see lady?’ he says as I unclip his seat belt and lift him out.

‘I just need to fix my phone,’ I say, holding up the blank screen so he can see. ‘Lady’s going to help me.’

If Mark were here now he’d tell me off for speaking to Joe like this. He hated any kind of baby language, said it was detrimental to Joe in the long run. I hear his voice in my head all the time, like a running commentary, casting doubt and judgement on everything I do.

I take Joe’s hand and try to put all thoughts of Mark to the back of my mind as I make my way towards Isobel’s house. It’s a very grand building with immaculate wrought-iron gates outside and bay trees on either side of the front door. I feel grubby as I open the gate, the stale smell of lake water clinging to my clothes like a second skin. I look down at Joe. There’s a clump of jam from this morning’s breakfast stuck to the front of his jumper. I bend down and try to scrape it off with my fingers but I end up smearing it even more.