It’s also a relief that Rob is going away for a few days; it means Sienna can’t get to him, and it will buy Abby more time to sort this out as best she can.

With no texts or calls from Sienna either, Abby is lulled into a false sense of security. She knows Sienna won’t let this go, but she pushes that thought away, focusing instead on preparing for her interview.

‘Good luck today,’ Rob says as he grabs a hooded top from the coat hook. It’s Monday morning and the taxi has arrived early, ready to take him to the airport. ‘I feel a bit like I’m playing truant,’ he says. ‘Running off to Portugal.’ She sees the doubt in his face; he is seconds away from changing his mind.

‘Work were fine about it, though, weren’t they? They encouraged you to go. And you needed to use up that leave.’

He nods. ‘You don’t mind me going on my own?’

‘’Course not. It’s good that you’ll get to spend time with your parents without me there. You’ve been working so hard lately that they hardly see you.’

This, she knows, will convince him, even though he’s still hesitant as he picks up his suitcase and wheels it out, doubt scrawled across his face. She watches him get into the taxi, and just for a moment there is a brief flicker of regret. She owes it to Rob to fix this mess, no matter the consequences.

She hasn’t dressed in a trouser suit, or any smart clothes, for so long that it feels alien to Abby as she walks to the school. She could have driven, but she’s so anxious that she can’t sit still in the house, she needs to keep moving, and the walk will do her good. So much depends on this job, things far more important than just earning a living. She needs this to escape the nightmare she’s in.

As she reaches the school, she takes a deep breath. She’s fully prepared for this, has gone over every possible question they might ask, and she is prepared to bend the truth. She will explain that she wants to take a step back from being a deputy head to focus on being in the classroom with the children, which is what, she will tell them, she has missed.

The L-shaped school building is welcoming; a mixture of decades old brickwork contrasting with a newly built extension. This amalgamation of old and new shouldn’t work, yet somehow it does. She can picture herself here.

‘I’m here for an interview,’ she tells the school receptionist. ‘Abby Nichols. Sorry, I’m a bit early.’