I tried to talk to him several times, each time getting progressively more upset; only affirming in Andrew’s mind the hold he had over me. The only way of staying sane became to stop fighting him. Tell myself I’d ride it out. Stay until I could find a way past him. What was most important was that Niamh had both parents, rather than just him.

‘Fuck you.’ I turn away so that he can’t see my face. However it looks to anyone else, I’m trapped, married to a monster.

At the top of the stairs, I hesitate outside Niamh’s closed door, trying to think what to say to her. He didn’t mean to hurt me. It was an argument that got a little too heated. It looks worse than it is. It’s nothing to worry about.

But there’s nothing I can say to make it right. Closing the door to my bedroom, I gaze at my reflection. In the mirror, my eyes are huge, the side of my face an ugly red. Going to the bathroom, I splash cold water on my cheeks, then dry them before I start applying makeup.

*

Three days later, on a morning when I’m alone, Stephanie turns up unexpectedly, clearly distraught, her tears blending with the rain on her face as she stands on the doorstep.

Her eyes are desperate as she looks at me. ‘I’m so sorry, Elise … After what you said, I didn’t know who else to turn to.’

‘Come in. You’re soaked.’ Only when I close the door and she starts to sob does the extent of her distress become clear. ‘What’s happened? Let me hang up your coat.’

Wiping her face, she awkwardly shrugs off her coat and passes it to me. Underneath, her sweater is also soaked. ‘Come and stand by the radiator. I’ll go and get you something to change into.’

Upstairs, I find a lamb’s wool sweater in a dull shade of blue and take it down to her. ‘The cloakroom’s through there.’ I indicate a door just beyond the kitchen. While she goes to change, I put the kettle on.

When she comes back, she’s slightly more composed, but as her eyes flit around, it’s clear she needs to talk about something. As she sits down, I get out two mugs. ‘I’ve made a pot of coffee. But if you’d prefer tea, it’s no trouble.’

She shakes her head. ‘Coffee would be good.’ She hesitates. ‘Thank you, Elise. I’m so sorry to turn up here like this.’

‘It really isn’t a problem. Let me finish making this; then we’ll talk.’