“Don’t obsess,” he cautioned now, again, across the room “Just be present.” He nodded his head meaningfully at the children.

But she was meandering from the edges of his protectorate. Hiding things. He could see it. Even before she’d done anything. And Sarah could see it, and she could feel it. Not confiding in him was like suddenly being devoid of oxygen, or holding one’s breath.

“What are you even looking for?” he asked her.

Sarah shrugged. She couldn’t answer. But she couldn’t stop. Only that afternoon she’d looked like an idiot needing to ‘go to the ladies’ instead of accompanying a senior partner and an important client downstairs in the chambers lift. Panic had mingled with fury. Thoughts of Veronica had become consuming. It was as though she’d finally realised that this one childhood injustice was the source of all injustices in her life. The reason for all losses. Hers and Amelia’s too. It was the reason they’d lost Eliza.

There had to be a consequence. There had to be. She could no longer cower behind blurry ‘right-made’ walls. Not when the transgressor remained so juvenile, so brazen and untouched. Not after twenty years of cold sweats, and a racing heart, and avoiding things. Not now that Amelia was being dragged down by it too.

She just needed a little leverage. Something to entrap Veronica with.

Sarah closed Amelia’s bag and smiled apologetically at David, lifting her phone up to feign a sudden message. “I’m so sorry,” she said. “I have to go back into the office.”

“Now?” he asked.

“No!” moaned the children.

But Sarah left. And nearly an hour later, she found herself walking through the city: watching the commuters rushing atop hot pavements; watching young professionals drinking outside bars; watching time tick by and the heat still rising. Watching grand Elizabethan architecture give way to royal gardens and pastel homes. Watching urban villagers navigate pretty, tree-lined streets. Watching red-robed cyclists with flowing Hepburn skirts dismount from blue pedals, and hastily enter their homes.