I snatch my hand away, fur suddenly like brush under my fingers. And with that, the thread snaps, sun piercing into my eyes as the cat jumps, a ball of fur disappearing into the bushes, taking with it any connection I’d had with the child quivering in front of me, enveloped this time by fluffy cardigan and plump, stern hands manhandling her back inside faster than I can draw another breath. As if promising to keep a secret could ever mean anything other than more lies.

‘I’ll be just another minute, OK, sweetheart?’ 190

Mrs Jolley folds her arms across her chest again after closing the door behind her and leaning against it for good measure. It’s only when I sniff that I realise tears are spilling out of my eyes, soundless, like water overflowing a glass.

‘It will do none of us any good to keep going over this,’ she says, peering over her shoulder into the hallway behind her, lit in a riot of clashing colour, sunlight playing a joke with stained glass. ‘Not you, not Katie, not any of us. We need to break her pattern of destructive behaviour once and for all, and to do that, we need to remove anything that triggers her stress responses. Now I’m not saying that your visits are a trigger themselves, but she’s not well, plain and simple, and I will not risk distressing her further by prolonging this one…’

I drop to my knees, cat curling round my leg again, a silken reminder of a connection broken much longer ago than today.

‘You’ve had a moment together, as you wanted, and now I think you should leave before we risk upsetting her more.’

I croon at the cat, crumpling into my touch as I scratch round its neck, searching for anything else that might remind me of her now, rather than then.

‘That’s enough for now, Marie. I need you to leave, and quickly, please. She’s not safe on her own inside.’

A car door chirps as it unlocks somewhere nearby, breeze rustling and singing through the bushes landscaping the path back up to the road; alien sounds, like the words she’s still saying and I can’t hear, much less understand. When Kayleigh was little, just looking at me would stop her crying, but now all it does is make her start?

‘I promise I’ll be in touch when she’s ready, I really will. I know this is about you too, and we are supportive of that. But our priority is Katie, and I’m sure she’s yours too, isn’t she? I will make sure we carve out time when she’s recovered and seems mentally robust enough to handle it without the consequences setting us all back too much…’191