‘I know you’re probably unable to give me his address,’ Jodie was saying. ‘I wouldn’t want to meet him on my own anyway. What I was hoping is that you could instigate a meeting between us so that I could discuss what I’ve told you.’

Emma’s hands were clasped on the table in front of her. She tapped her thumbs together as she thought about what the woman had said. ‘You think that Victor is responsible for planting the medication that got you fired, following it up by leaving the baby shoes tied to your door so you’d know exactly who was responsible.’

When Jodie nodded, Emma stopped tapping and spread her hands. ‘Why? And why baby shoes? Why not a note saying what he’d done?’

Jodie had asked herself the same question. She looked at the stony face of the woman opposite, remembering her as being more supportive, kinder. Maybe it was easier to be kind to a fourteen-year-old.

Jodie folded her arms, gripping her biceps tightly. ‘I’m not sure. Maybe he saw my comfortable life and wanted to unsettle it by getting me into trouble at work. He may not have been aware of the seriousness of what he did. Leaving the shoes…’ The memories came slipping back again, the young Jodie so much in thrall to the older man, her eyes shining when she opened the gift he’d bought her, the blue baby shoes wrapped so carefully, chosen with love. She’d told everyone about them at the time – her mother, the legal team, the police – wanting them to see that Victor wasn’t the monster they were portraying. ‘He would have known I’d remember them. Before everything came out, we’d planned to have the baby together. We’d even spoken about running away.’

‘I remember,’ Emma said. ‘You couldn’t see any fault with him. Even when other victims came forward to claim he’d molested them, you refused to see it.’

‘Yet it was my testimony that put him away.’ Jodie remembered the kindly judge sitting down with her and asking her to tell her everything, the subtle nudging questions when she’d been reluctant to go into details about the increasing sexualisation of her relationship with Victor, culminating in what she’d remembered as being the less-than-pleasant experience of sex on the rough ground behind shrubs and trees on the Heath. Not painful, Victor had made sure of that, but not particularly nice.

‘You did the right thing,’ Emma insisted.

Had she? She’d been so conflicted then, a confused, frightened child. Now, she might be confused… even a little frightened… but she wasn’t conflicted. ‘Anyway, all that is irrelevant,’ Jodie said bluntly. ‘Are you able to arrange a meeting with him, or not?’

‘Not, I’m afraid.’ The words may have been apologetic but the tone of voice wasn’t.