Slipping it into in my pocket, I manage to evade him. ‘It’s nothing to do with you, Andrew. I am not having an affair, as you very well know.’ Summoning all my dignity, I turn away. ‘Now if you’ll excuse me …’ As I start to walk away from him, I’m tense, holding my breath, knowing how much he hates being crossed. I’ve taken barely two steps before he grabs my arm, his fingers closing tightly, roughly pinching my skin. I spin around. ‘How dare you!’ Up close, his breath stinks of wine as I stand my ground. ‘You’re the one who’s screwing around. You don’t even care who knows it. You’re despicable.’ Hearing Niamh move around upstairs, I shake my arm free of his grip. ‘There’s only one reason I’m here – and that’s Niamh,’ I hiss. ‘You do know that, don’t you?’

‘Lying bitch,’ he mutters. ‘There’s no way you’d cope without me. And you love people knowing you’re married to a doctor and living in this big, expensive house. Admit it, Elise.’

Hearing Niamh’s footsteps on the stairs, I step back, flashing him a warning look. Then, as she comes into the kitchen, I muster the rigid self-control that comes from years of practice. ‘I was just telling your father about the police being here earlier.’ My tone is deliberately light as I glance at Andrew. ‘Oh – they asked where you work, so I gave them the address of the practice. I’m sure they’ll be in touch at some point.’

I turn to Niamh again. ‘I’ve made chicken curry. Can you set the table?’

Under my mask of calm, a torrent of anger is raging; at Andrew’s threatening ways, his complete lack of respect for me. I should be upstairs packing, removing myself and Niamh from this toxic household, from Andrew’s life, then calling the police, listing the abuse he inflicts on us. Being here isn’t good for Niamh.

But then I remind myself why I’ve stayed, a sense of powerlessness overwhelming me. Andrew will do anything to wrestle Niamh away from me. He won’t let her go. He’s made that clear more than once. And to leave her with him … It will never be an option, meaning that as long as she’s at home, I’m trapped.

*

It isn’t until the next day, while Andrew’s at work and Niamh is upstairs in her room, that I return the call that came yesterday, dialling the number with shaking hands, trying to sound matter-of-fact when an unfamiliar voice answers, waiting as I’m connected.