‘Just because someone doesn’t hit you, it doesn’t mean you can’t be scared.’ I had a feeling he’d been trained in this, how to support women who were in abusive relationships. But I wasn’t. Just an unhappy one. ‘This is going to seem really awkward, but . . . I brought something with me.’ He slid a shiny pamphlet over the table, with the NHS logo on it. Understanding Coercive Control. A stock photo of a crying woman, locked in a bathroom, while a man shouted at her from outside. ‘Something about you at the hospital that day. You were just so jumpy. And pregnancy is the riskiest time for domestic violence.’

I blinked. ‘Oh, it’s not . . .’ I trailed off. Nick never shouted, never raised his fists or his voice. But all the same I was under his control. I couldn’t go places or see people without him knowing. He knew what I ate, when I slept, when I left the house. He seemed to know everywhere I went, as if each step was under his scrutiny.

Dr Holt’s face twisted, and I could tell he was about to say something difficult. ‘I get it, Suzi. I know it doesn’t always look like it’s meant to. Bruises, black eyes. But it can be just as bad. That case just last week in Medway, where the guy strangled his wife. Everyone said what a nice person he was, how much he cared for his family.’

I eyed the pamphlet. I could hardly take that home with me; Nick would want to know where I’d got it. ‘Thank you,’ I said finally. ‘I’ll think about it.’ It was true I might need to run away, if Nora was who I thought she was.

He checked his watch. ‘Oh bugger, I’m late for a clinic. I mean it, Suzi – if you need help, there are things we can do. I’ll come to the police with you, tell them about this Nora woman, if you’re really worried.’ I could tell he didn’t believe me. He thought I was in denial, ignoring the real problem in my life. ‘Can I take your number at least, in case I find out more about Patrick?’

I hesitated. How would I explain it to Nick, another strange man calling me? But he was a doctor. He would help me. ‘OK. Give me yours too,’ I said. I passed him my phone to key it in, then dialled it briefly so he’d have my number. This was so risky.

‘Please,’ he said, passing it back. ‘Anything you need. Just call.’