‘Anna,’ I say experimentally. ‘Anna, it’s Grace. I’m so sorry about what happened to you.’ I pause, my mouth bone dry. I open the zipped section in my bag and take out the wristband, put it in her hand and fold her fingers around it.

‘I’m on your side, Anna. I want you to know that whatever has happened to Nick, I understand that you have been through a lot. If you said something to him to make him leave, please tell me. I won’t hold it against you. I know you’ve suffered terribly. I wish you had told me about the baby when you told me about Tim.’

I listen to the sound of her breathing, until its rhythmic pulse begins to make me zone out. She is so still, so defenceless. In that moment I feel nothing but sympathy. I don’t like her, but the things I don’t like about her are the same things I dislike about myself. The lying, the insecurity, the distrust of others. We are not so different, when it comes down to it.

I stand up and hook the strap of my bag over my shoulder. I consider leaving the wristband in her hand, but I don’t do it. It wouldn’t be fair.

On my way out, I pass Sean and Jess. They look at me eagerly, hoping, I imagine, that I will give them some insight into their daughter. I want to give them something so badly, but I can’t think what.

‘Kai is a super little boy,’ I say. ‘You’ll love him. Anna’s done a fantastic job. She’s a wonderful mum.’

It was both the right and the wrong thing to say. Jess starts to cry, and Sean puts his arm around her.

‘Thank you, Grace. That means so much. We’re meeting our grandson tomorrow. We can’t wait.’

I watch as they walk back along the corridor. I feel so lonely I could cry.

I haven’t been in my house for five minutes before the doorbell rings. As usual my heart does a flip. As usual I force myself to control my expectations, to quash the spark of hope. It won’t be Nick. It’s probably Mrs Jeffers wanting me to change a light bulb for her, or something like that. Even my fretful neighbour’s company would be welcome right now. I see the two shadowy figures through the opaque panes and my heart drops to my stomach. Toffee barks, and I grab him before opening the door. He raises his front paws, straining at his collar, when he sees the two police officers.

‘Grace Trelawney,’ the WPC says. At her tone, flat and heavy, I step back instinctively. Toffee growls. ‘I have a warrant to search the premises.’

ANNA

Saturday, 14 April 2018 Day Zero