Kathleen shakes her head. ‘I kept in touch. He knew where I was when he needed me. He knew I’d come to him when he was sick and I did. And when I did, I showed him compassion. I showed him I loved him. I showed him I forgave him.’

Her words are fast, tripping over one another. She’s spiralling now. She must realise how ridiculous she’s being. She must realise that she can’t get away from this, no matter her threats or her plans.

‘That’s the greatest gift you can give someone, you know. Forgiveness. It’s what people deserve, when they’re dying. Even the bad people. The people who make mistakes. They deserve to die in peace. I gave him that. I let him know. I let him know he was forgiven.’

‘What did you ever have to forgive him for?’ Heidi snorts. ‘You barely even knew him. You stayed away for so long …’

She says the words and time slows. I see the look on Kathleen’s face. I see it and I wonder how I ever missed it.

Was I so far in denial of my own pain that I couldn’t see it written all over someone else’s face? I’d missed it with Heidi … and now …

Kathleen pales, struggles to compose her face again. She knows she’s said too much. She’s flustered. Her mouth opens and closes, but she isn’t saying anything.

‘Oh my God …’ is all I can say and she flashes me a look. A look that pleads with me not to say any more. If we don’t say it out loud it isn’t real.

A small cry comes from upstairs. Lily must be waking up. I see the panic on Heidi’s face.

‘I need to get to Lily,’ she says. ‘She’s crying.’

Kathleen looks at her. Steps to one side.

‘You can go,’ she says, ‘but you’re not taking your bag with you.’

‘Why can’t I bring my bag?’ Heidi asks. ‘Lily might need changing.’

‘Then take what you need from it up to her. You’re not taking your bag. Do you think I’d risk you calling the police?’

‘I want to look after my daughter,’ Heidi says, but she doesn’t argue further.

She simply pulls out a nappy and wipes from her bag and, with a tilt of her head that seems to ask if I’m okay with her going, she heads towards the stairs.

I nod at her. I’m quite looking forward to getting Kathleen on my own, although my stomach is churning now. How many people did he hurt? How many lives did he destroy?

How many people had he condemned to live a life of shame and self-blame and fucked-up relationships, mental and emotional scars, a fear of intimacy? Nightmares and self-medicating, distrust and hurt.

He has left innocent people, innocent girls, broken and sullied in his wake.

I don’t want to be ashamed or scared any more. It has gone on too long. This has to stop. Kathleen needs to know it has to stop.