I remember that something changed. I can’t remember exactly when, or how it happened, but some time after our wedding – maybe it was around the time I got pregnant with Tim, or just after he was born – something changed. I think you changed.

When I think back to that time now it’s funny, because I can’t remember specific arguments or fights or even threats – Tricia believes you were abusive, I know that’s what she thinks even though she’s never said it out loud – but I remember feeling scared. It’s like the anxiety I get in patches now; I remember feeling this constant background churning in my stomach, like something bad was about to happen even though I didn’t know what it was.

I remember you went away. Not just for a few days, either, although you did that too sometimes, but for whole years. These are the patches I remember most clearly, because they were the times I started to feel better. It was like coming out of a fog; I’d suddenly find myself on my own again, not really sure how I got there, but I’d be aware that you’d gone and I’d be glad about it.

I’d get on with my life, and I hoped – although I don’t think I ever really believed it – that you were never coming back.

I remember hating you when you did come back. I think at one point I tried to leave you – although this memory is very patchy and I’m not sure whether or not I invented it – but I think I remember you stopping me, telling me that Tim would be the one that’d end up hurt if I left. Tim would be the one that’d suffer.

Tricia’s been a big help. I remembered even less when I first came to her. It’s starting to come back now, though, just very slowly.

I used to feel numb and anxious, but now I feel angry as well as scared. Tricia says that’s good.

This letter was her idea, actually. She says even if you’re never actually going to give a letter to someone it sometimes helps to write one anyway, that way you can get everything out on paper. Organise all your thoughts. She says some people burn letters like this after they’ve finished writing them, but I don’t think I will.

I think I’ll keep this one as a reminder. It’s a reminder that the memories are out there, and they’re coming back, and the harder I work the better I’ll—

A floorboard creaked directly behind him. Matt let out a small cry and dropped the notepad back onto the desk. He spun around and saw Anne standing in the doorway to the study, watching him.

‘You didn’t find the DVDs then?’ Anne’s face was a mask.