I got up at three this morning and crept into the bathroom to sort out mine and Bella’s DNA samples, placing each one carefully in the vials the DNA-testing company sent me. It took me a while to find a company who would actually test hair. Most of them only use cheek swabs. This particular firm asked for five strands of hair each with the root follicle attached. I managed to extricate three from the clump of Bella’s hair that looked like they had the follicles, but I couldn’t find any others. I’ll just have to hope that three are enough. Maybe I should have taken the hairbrush away with me to give me more of a chance to find intact follicles, but I didn’t want Bella to notice that it was missing and then mention it to Kate, who might then put two and two together.

I stopped off at the post office after dropping Jess and Charlie at school. I doubt I’ll get the results before Christmas, but at least they’ll be in the process of being tested. I’ve waited so many years that a few more days won’t hurt too much.

I’ve come to a complicated roundabout, and I panic about which lane I’m supposed to be in. My thoughts and worries about Bella are put on the back-burner for the moment as I try to negotiate tricky new routes and one-way systems. I could have put the address into my phone and used the satnav to guide me there, but I’m worried about my phone battery dying.

Finally, I get onto the North Circular, and even though the buildings and landmarks around have changed somewhat, the road itself is reassuringly familiar. I drive over the Brent Cross Flyover and turn off onto Falloden Way. Past Highgate Woods and then onto Shepherd’s Hill. I recognise a couple of restaurants and cafés that have stood the test of time, as well as a park I remember visiting with my firstborn…

I exhale and give myself a shake. Now is not the time to get emotional. I need to detach myself from these memories in case they swallow me whole. Stay focused and concentrate on the route. The traffic is heavier now, the roads crowded with Christmas shoppers. As it starts to drizzle, the Christmas lights and car headlamps blur through my rain-smeared windscreen.

I follow the directions I scribbled down earlier, and within only a few minutes find myself driving along Goldfinch Lane. Set a few streets back from the main road, it has the feel of a wide country avenue – aside from the parking-restriction signs everywhere. I’m not sure what I’ll do about those. I guess I’ll have to chance it and hope no traffic wardens come along while I’m parked here.