‘Hello. It’s Elise Buckley. I’m sorry I didn’t get back to you before.’ As the voice at the other end speaks, I feel my world slip sideways. ‘Oh. Friday? I think that’s fine.’ Swallowing, I rack my brains as I try to remember when I’m working. ‘Yes. Thank you.’

After ending the call, I turn to find Niamh standing there, watching me. I wonder how much of the conversation she’s overheard, but I can’t read her face. ‘Are you OK, Niamh?’

Going to the fridge, she nods. After getting out a can of Coke, she says quietly, ‘Are you and Dad getting a divorce?’

My response is too quick, my gasp too loud. ‘Of course we’re not. What makes you think that?’

She shrugs and then turns towards me in a single fluid movement that reminds me of Hollie. ‘So what was that phone call?’ When I don’t reply, she goes on. ‘It isn’t just that. You argue all the time, Dad’s never here, and when he is, he eats on his own.’ I’m astonished when I see tears glitter in her eyes.

Walking towards her, I put my hands firmly on her shoulders. ‘We are not getting a divorce.’ Hating that she’s upset, I try to reassure her. ‘I know things seem a bit difficult just now. But we’ll get over it. You mustn’t worry.’ Then I pause. ‘Have you spoken to your father about this?’

‘Yes.’ Her answer shocks me. I can’t believe that she’s talked to Andrew at all, let alone that she’s talked to him before me.

I stare at her, incredulous. ‘What did he say?’

She shrugs again. ‘Not much …’ She breaks off and her grey eyes look piercingly into mine. ‘He laughed. Then he said you’d never leave him.’

As she says that, I feel something break inside me. He’s her father, yet he uses her mercilessly, doing what I’ve always dreaded he’d do – drawing Niamh into his cat-and-mouse games with me. In that moment, I’ve never hated him more. I imagine him laughing, unkindly, cruelly, knowing he doesn’t care what Niamh sees, how she feels. He doesn’t protect her or look out for her. The only person who can do that is me. ‘He’s right. I won’t.’ As I gaze steadily at my daughter, the web I’m caught in tightens.

Niamh’s nod is barely perceptible as I change the subject. ‘I had an email from your school. If the roads don’t freeze again, they’ll open the day after tomorrow.’ I pause. ‘Have you heard anything from Hollie?’

‘No.’ Niamh walks over to the window, gazing out. ‘Where do you think she is?’