But as soon as she nears Polly, she knows that something is wrong.

“He’s not here,” Polly breathes, shaking her head, rushing down the school steps towards her. Not smiling. She places her hand on Simone’s arm. “He got in a fight at lunch. Ran off about twenty minutes ago, just before I arrived.”

The thing about flying, is there’s so much further to fall. Quicker than ever before in her life, fear rips through Simone’s skin, burning as it forces its way through clenched pores. Simone flings the buggy into Polly’s hands, turns, and runs back towards Primrose Hill, and him.

But there is no time.

Why did she leave that stupid note? A foolish attempt to show Terry that he hadn’t beaten her, that, in the end, she didn’t need him? Or was it a last wavering, one more desire to connect with him, protect him, explain? Whatever the motivation, it was another poor choice. Another act of senseless, reckless rebellion. Because what if Dominic has gone home already, and Terry is there, and has seen the note? He’ll kill him. He will kill him. He’ll kill him for sure.

At the top of their road, Simone stops for breath, obscuring herself behind the house on the corner. She takes her mobile phone from her pocket and calls her son, wondering why she hasn’t thought of this sooner, but Dominic doesn’t answer. It rings through to his voicemail and Simone leaves a garbled message telling him not to go home and to call her straight away. There is a seed of thought that Terry might already have Dominic’s phone, so she is wary not to reveal too much about where she and Jasmine will be, or who they are with, or what is happening, but she needs Dominic to stay away from Terry, and also, to know that he hasn’t been abandoned to him.

Simone looks at her watch. It has been over an hour since Terry left for the pub. He should still be in the midst of it all, but he might by now be wondering what’s keeping them. Tentatively, Simone peers around the wall of the end house and glances down the street, then hurriedly she pulls herself back behind brick.

He is there.

Beer in hand, Terry is strolling merrily towards the flat from the opposite direction. He throws an empty bag of crisps into the gutter and stops to light a cigarette, then reaches into his pocket for his key ring, which he casually spins around his finger. On his face sits an expression of contentment, his world at rights; about to unravel. He is nearer to the house than she is, but if Simone sprints, if she runs with all her might, it might just be possible to get there first, to somehow race up the stairs ahead of him and get rid of the note. But where will she say Jasmine is? And what if he notices their missing things? And if Dominic is there, how will she get him away? Simone hesitates, her feet no longer flying but iron-weighted, sinking into prettily paved stone. Terry reaches the doorstep. He lifts his key. If he sees the note and then she turns up, he will kill her. But if Dominic is there, he will kill him.