The little girl’s top is covered in biscuit crumbs and both her boots lie on the floor of the car. She must have kicked them off earlier when she was upset. Catriona unclicks the car-seat straps, eases her hands beneath the child’s warm body and gently lifts her out. The child mumbles in her sleep, presses herself into Catriona’s chest and neck. Catriona dips her head to breathe in the scent of her hair, but she rears back a little when she smells an unfamiliar shampoo – berries or something, rather than the lavender one she uses. After a second of panic, she tells herself it’s no problem. A bath and a hair wash later will fix everything.

For now, Catriona carries the sleeping child into the flat and through to the darkened back bedroom. She’s glad they painted it yellow. It’s a nice cheery colour for when she wakes up. And the multicoloured stencilled flowers on the walls are perfect. This all feels strange right now, but surely it will become normal soon enough. Once a few days or possibly weeks have passed, they’ll hardly be able to recall these upsetting events. They’ll all simply become a distantly remembered bad dream.

As she sets her down on the cool sheets, unwinding her little arms from around her neck, the girl opens her eyes. Catriona stiffens, willing her to go back to sleep. She really doesn’t think she can cope if she starts crying again. It will be too much. She begins to stroke her hair, like she did earlier when they were back in the car. Her prayers are answered as the child closes her eyes once more, rolls over and pulls the covers up to her chin, settling back into her slumber.

Catriona perches on the edge of the bed and gazes at the sleeping child. A scream forms inside her gut, clawing to get out, but Catriona won’t give it a voice. Instead, she turns to more practical things… She stands and heads into the kitchen, closing the blinds to block out the view of the garden and the church beyond. She slides open the cutlery drawer. The scissors are right there, next to the knives. Her fingers close around the black plastic handles. She lifts them out and tests them in the air, snipping them open and closed a few times. They should be sharp enough.