‘I know but I think the letters have stopped. We can get back to normal.’

‘That’s good.’ He offers me a tight smile. ‘I’m going to get dressed.’

After breakfast I drop Archie at nursery with a kiss, telling him that Aunty Carly will pick him up later. I can’t tear myself away from Archie until I see his favourite nursery nurse, Rebecca. I remind her again about security and she reassures me again she will notify me of anything unusual.

‘I’ll see you this evening,’ I say as I leave. We’d missed Archie’s parents’ evening last night because of George’s meeting but Rebecca has offered to see us tonight instead, which is really good of her on a Friday.

Before I leave I hang Archie’s coat on his peg in the small cloakroom where the children’s trays are. I ease Archie’s open. There’s a picture inside of three large stick people, and one small one. Archie has labelled them Mummy, Daddy and Aunty Carly. It pains me to see that whenever Archie depicts his family Marie is always missing. By stick-Archie’s feet is the dog he so desperately craves. I shut the drawer. I’ll go through Archie’s work this evening with George. Archie is the lynchpin that holds us together and this might make us feel closer.

I head straight to my first formal appointment with Francesca since I’d turned up crying on her doorstep.

‘I wasn’t sure if you’d come.’ She sits upright, spine straight. The warmth that used to coat her words when I was a patient before has disappeared. She doesn’t sound cold exactly, just professional when before I felt we were edging towards being friends. I wonder if it’s hard for her. Building relationships and then watching them crumble.

‘I’m sorry I just stopped coming before without letting you know. I really thought I was better, that I didn’t need you, but it was rude of me not to let you know,’ I tell her again.

‘It often happens. Clients get to a point they feel they don’t need therapy and medication any more but don’t seem to recognize it could be because of the therapy and medication that they are feeling better. Anyway. Moving forwards. Have you seen him again?’

‘No.’

‘That’s a good sign, Leah.’

I don’t answer, instead I unscrew the lid from my water bottle and take a sip.

‘And the letters?’

I hesitate. I’d lied to George but I need to talk to someone. ‘Yes. I’ve had another. So has Carly.’

‘And Marie?’

Again, I stall for time, looking out of the window. Weighing up the benefits of being honest; I want to feel better – against the negatives; if my mental capacity is called into question again I want my notes to show that I’m rational. But the police already know about Marie and I’m horribly worried about her.

‘Marie is missing.’

‘Missing?’

‘Yes. She… I don’t know. After the first letter arrived me and Carly went to see if Marie had one but she was… gone.’