I do a Google search for ‘Companies House Shaun Morris’, and it comes up with the name ‘Shaun Richard Morris’. I click on it. The listing shows the correspondence address as The Ridings, 48 Goldfinch Lane, Crouch End, London, and shows his company name as ‘Build Morr’. The fact that this Shaun Morris is the director of a building firm based in the right area of London convinces me that this must be the right Shaun Morris. The address sounds residential, so he probably registered the company at his home address. The company status shows as ‘dissolved’, and it says that Shaun Morris resigned as company director just under two and a half years ago.

I tap the company name and there’s a heading that says ‘People’. Once again it shows Shaun Richard Morris as a director, but underneath his name it lists a second person – Catherine Margaret Morris. Catherine must be Kate, surely. There’s little doubt that this was Kate and Shaun’s company. Maybe now I’ll be able to find out some more about them.

I tap the address into Google Maps and zoom in. I love how the map system shows you what the actual road looks like and that you can scroll past each house taking a look over walls and fences, as though you’re actually walking past. Sure enough, The Ridings is situated in a residential road. And not just any residential road – it’s wide and leafy and doesn’t even look like it belongs in the centre of London. The properties on this road must be worth a fortune. It takes me a while to locate number 48, but when I finally do, I raise my eyebrows. It’s a large, semi-detached, double-fronted Victorian villa with a huge paved driveway. It must have been a real wrench to leave that beauty and move into their tiny flat on the outskirts of Wareham.

As I save the address, I get a fluttering of nerves in my belly about what I’m going to have to do. But before that, I need to go onto the DNA-testing website and activate the kit they sent me. I check the time – it’s already past seven o’clock. I don’t think I’m going to have time to sort out the form and DNA samples before Matt and the kids get home.

My brain feels like chewing gum. I close my eyes and sink back into my pillows, trying to slow my breathing and stop the panicky sensation getting any worse. I’m okay when I’m doing something, but as soon as I stop, waves of anxiety start to attack.