“You okay?” He glances at me. “I know this looks weird, but there’s nowhere else we can look after him and make sure you’re safe, too. There’s lighting down there and a camp bed and bedding, and other stuff we store down there.”

I nod to indicate that I’m fine, but it’s not true. I don’t know what to think about any of it and I feel sick with exhaustion. I don’t care what happened to Paula. I don’t care that Frank is locked in a basement under my feet. I just want to be a long, long way away from here. If it weren’t for the weather and Al’s ankle, I’d leave now.

“You are safe. You know that, don’t you?” Isaac holds out a hand and pulls me to my feet. “It’s important to me that you feel safe, Emma. More important than almost anything else. Now, why don’t you go and grab a bit of breakfast then go and have a sleep.”

I can tell the dining room is packed before I set foot in the room. The metal clang of cutlery scraping against tin bowls, and the sound of people laughing and talking, fills the hallway and obscures the soft flip-flop of my feet on the wooden floor. Word will have spread about what happened last night with Frank, and the second I walk into the room all eyes will be on me. What’s the alternative? Creep away to the girls’ dorm and spend time alone with the memory of what happened? No, I can’t do that. Not yet.

I take a step closer to the door then stop as Daisy’s laughter cuts through the hubbub. The sound feels so foreign, like the memory of another life. How can she laugh after what happened to me? She saw how upset I was. She must have guessed something awful had happened to me. Why isn’t she with me, supporting me? We’ve been there for each other through everything, and yet the one time I needed her most, she walked away. She wanted to comfort me, I know she did, but whatever Leanne whispered in her ear changed her mind. I can’t, I won’t let that go. Not again.

Silence doesn’t descend the second I step into the dining room. Rather it’s a gradual hush – a dropped spoon, a silencing glance, a raised hand, a meaningful look. Conversations drop away one by one, chairs scrape on the floor as they’re turned towards me, eyebrows flash and then furrow.