When the police arrested me five months ago, I went into a kind of shut-down mode. I entered a semi-catatonic state and had to be admitted to a psychiatric hospital – which is where I am now. Which is where I’ll probably be for the foreseeable future. It’s taken the doctors weeks to get me to accept who I really am. To make me understand that I never actually had a child who was abducted. That my name isn’t even Rachel Farnborough.

It’s Catriona Devon.

I still get muddled from time to time. Flipping between Rachel and Catriona. They say I may have dissociative identity disorder – the medical term for a split personality – but my doctor hasn’t formally diagnosed me. He still says it’s too early to say for certain.

I sit up in bed and start counting the tiles again. I’m pretty sure there are 136 of them. I can’t remember if that’s right, or if I imagined it. I’d better count them again; just to make doubly sure.

Once I’ve finished counting, I stand and walk around the small room to stretch my legs. It’s almost time for my morning walk outside in the grounds. I feel edgy in anticipation of it. I can’t sit still. Whenever my brain is unoccupied it returns to all the memories. It’s like a lucky dip – sometimes they’re good memories of me and Darren and Grace, or perhaps of Matt, Jess and Charlie. But more often than not they’re bad memories… of scented water and dark earth and blank expressions that make me want to scratch my brain cells out.

My pacing becomes more frantic. I don’t have a watch or a clock in here so I can’t tell if the nurse is late today. What if they forget to come? Or if they’ve decided I can’t go out for some reason? I don’t have to stay in this room – it’s not like they’ve locked me in or anything. But it makes me nervous, going into the common areas by myself with all the other patients and staff and visitors. I feel as though I’m on display. So I like to wait until I can walk out with a member of staff. It makes me feel more secure.

If they do forget me, I might just have to be brave, because I really do need to get out of this room. I miss going out, walking down by the river. I miss working with Dee, and the school run. I miss London and its big, anonymous parks.