‘So tell me, what was real? Those things that maybe didn’t really happen? Or that my memory has embellished for me over the years? Why don’t you tell me what of it really did happen? Just so I know.’

He shook his head. ‘I don’t think there’s any need to drag things up,’ he said. ‘The past is the past and I hold no hard feelings …’

‘You? You hold no hard feelings?’ It was incredulous, what he was saying.

‘None,’ he said. ‘You didn’t know what you were saying. Your mind was in a very dark place. Everyone knew it. But you’ll always be my special girl. You know I did so much for you, and I don’t regret it for a second. I walked away from my own daughter for you, and your mother. To make sure you were taken care of. Even when it was tough. Even when you hated me, because I’ve always seen you as my daughter too, you know. All those years of providing for you. Caring for you. Loving you. They must count for something? Tell me they count for something.’

This man. This man who had terrified and traumatised me. He was now – weak, pathetic – trying to manipulate me again. Trying to make me think I was losing my mind again. Trying to tell me he’d done me a favour? Christ Almighty, I’d rather have been left to roam the streets on my own than endure what he did to me.

He reached out. His creepy bony hand, already showing signs of the weight he had lost during his illness. I saw his fingernails, just a little too long. I remembered his touch. How his nails would scrape at my skin. His clammy hands. His rank breath.

He had convinced himself, perhaps, of his own innocence, but I knew what had happened. I had no doubts. None at all. As his hand moved closer to me, I flinched. I would not let him touch me. Never again. Not for any reason.

I batted his hand away, using more force than I anticipated. His arm, not as strong as it was, swung backwards, his hand bashing against the bedside locker. I can still hear the thud it made now when I think about it. He swore under his breath, but I didn’t care. I stood up, scraping the chair back as I stood.

‘Go to hell, Joe,’ I said as calmly, but as menacingly, as I could, turning on my heel, ignoring his yelping about his injured hand or his attempts to call me back.

‘Don’t be like that, Heidi,’ I hear him say as I closed the door and headed back down the stairs just in time to see Alex arrive back with Lily.

That was the last time I spoke to Joe McKee.

Chapter Sixty

Heidi

Now

My breath is catching in my chest. I feel as if someone has wrapped their arms around me and is squeezing too tight. Ciara is standing defiantly at the door. She won’t listen to reason. She won’t listen at all.