Back from the police station, we exit the car and walk up the driveway, emotionally battered, like we’ve all just fought in a war. I fumble for my keys and open the front door, Daisy in my arms. Lorna and Hannah tentatively follow me out of the sunshine and into the shade of the hallway; Hannah carrying a sleeping Leo It feels like days, not hours, since I was last here.

We spent all afternoon in the police station, going over everything with DS Callaghan and her colleagues. They wanted to know every gory detail from each of us. Precise dates, explicit descriptions, everything. I was debriefed separately from Hannah and Lorna, explaining all of it, from the baby-monitor incident, right up to the events with my spiked drink and then Hannah’s awful revelation.

Hannah had a social worker sitting in on her interview. She and Lorna were in the station far longer than me, but I waited in my car for them. I didn’t want them to have to get a taxi home alone. At the end of their interview, the detective asked Lorna where they could find her husband. Lorna told her he would be finishing work soon and heading back home. Callaghan said they would come to the house to bring Parkfield in to the station.

Lorna and Hannah have been assigned a family liaison officer – a woman who will keep them informed of what’s happening with their case, and who they can go to if they need any further help or information. They will also be receiving a visit from social services to check on Leo and the other girls. It’s all pretty overwhelming for them.

Neither Lorna nor her daughter want to be home when Stephen returns from work – which I completely understand – so I said they could come to mine and stay for as long as they needed to. Lorna has already arranged for her other daughters to spend the night at friends’ houses.

Both Hannah and Lorna are jittery as rabbits as we head into the lounge. I settle Daisy upstairs in her cot for a nap and we decide to put Leo in her room too, where it’s quiet. I offer tea, but no one wants it. Hannah keeps drifting over to the lounge window, staring into the peaceful afternoon sunshine, waiting for Parkfield to get home.

‘What if he knows?’ she asks, turning to look at me and Lorna, her eyes wide, face sallow. ‘What if he’s found out that I told you? That I’ve told the police?’

‘He doesn’t know,’ I reply, shaking my head. ‘How could he? He’s been at school all day.’

‘I know. I know, you’re right.’ She chews her nails. ‘But he might,’ she adds. ‘And if he found out, then he won’t come home right away. He might hurt Jess or Lydia. He might do something… drastic.’

‘Jess and Lydia are safe at their friends’,’ Lorna says. ‘He won’t know where to find them. He won’t do anything. Like Kirstie said, he doesn’t even know. How could he?’ But her voice is shaky, like she’s trying to convince herself as well as her daughter.

I don’t blame her. It’s hard not to worry. Until that man is behind bars, none of us will be able to relax. I get up off the sofa, cross the room to where Hannah’s standing by the window, and gently guide her back to the sofa to sit down next to her mum. ‘Listen to me, Hannah. He won’t be hurting anyone ever again, okay?’

Hannah nods several times, but her eyes still have that wide, shocked look. Not surprising really. She’s been suffering in silence for years, and now, finally, something is being done to put a stop to it. It must feel strange. Surreal. She gets up again and heads straight back to the window, like she’s attached to a piece of elastic. ‘What time did the police say they’d get here?’ Hannah asks, a tremor in her voice.

‘Any minute,’ Lorna replies.

‘What if they get here before Stephen?’ Hannah asks. ‘He might see their cars and drive away?’

‘He won’t know they’ve come for him,’ I say, drifting to her side once more. ‘He’ll probably think it’s something to do with me again.’

Hannah nods several times, still chewing her nails, her blonde hair tucked behind both ears.

‘I know it’s hard, but try not to worry,’ I say. ‘The worst is over.’

I turn at the sound of Lorna gasping, sobbing. Her head is bowed, her face in her hands. Hannah and I rush to her side. ‘It’s okay, Lorna. It’s okay.’ What a stupid thing to say. It’s obviously not okay, but we always seem to fall back on these platitudes.

‘I’ve been a terrible mother,’ she cries.

‘No you haven’t.’ I stroke her hair.

‘You’re a great mum,’ Hannah says. ‘The best.’

‘You didn’t know what was going on,’ I say.

‘But I should have.’ Lorna looks up at me, her face a blotchy mess. ‘I should have known. She’s my daughter, for goodness sake.’ She puts a hand to Hannah’s cheek. ‘You’re my baby and I should have protected you.’

‘Don’t blame yourself,’ I say. ‘This is not your fault. It’s his fault, okay? He’s the one who should be feeling guilty. Not you.’

‘I’m sorry, too,’ Hannah says to her mum, tears falling. ‘I should have told you. I should never have kept it a secret.’

‘Don’t you dare apologise,’ Lorna cries, pulling her daughter into a hug. ‘Kirstie is right. This is his fault, not ours.’

At the sound of a car engine, I make my way back to the window and peer out. ‘Guys,’ I say, my heart speeding up. ‘The police are here.’

Mother and daughter get to their feet and come over to the window, wiping away their tears. Lorna’s hands are clasped in front of her as though she’s praying.

We stare ahead at the entrance to the cul-de-sac, where a police car has just turned in, followed by a second unmarked car. We chart the slow-moving vehicles’ progress as they make their way down the road towards us, pulling up outside next door, one behind the other.

‘Should I go out there, do you think?’ Lorna asks. ‘Speak to them?’

‘It’s up to you,’ I reply. ‘But you and Hannah have already told them everything you know. They’re here for Stephen. You don’t need to talk to them or him if you don’t want to.’

‘Shit,’ Hannah murmurs, as a navy BMW turns into the road.

‘He’s back,’ Lorna says, her face blanching.

My stomach lurches in sympathy.

I take Lorna’s hand and squeeze it gently. She grips my hand even tighter and then takes hold of Hannah’s hand too. The three of us stand together and watch as Stephen Parkfield drives his car past the police vehicles into his driveway and switches off the engine. After a moment or two he gets out, and there’s a muffled thud as his car door closes. I can hardly bear to look at the man, my skin crawls with revulsion and rage. If I feel this way, I wonder how Lorna must be feeling.

‘He’ll go mad when he realises no one’s home,’ Lorna says. ‘He told us that Leo was never to leave the house. Not until we move.’

For a second, Parkfield looks across in our direction at the lounge window. I freeze and the other two shrink back out of sight. Did he see us? But he runs a hand through his hair and walks towards his front door.

Behind him, the officers have got out of their cars. DS Callaghan and one of her colleagues have started to walk down the Parkfields’ driveway. Parkfield stops and turns around. Callaghan is saying something to him, but I can’t make out the words.

‘I’m going out there,’ Lorna says, letting go of our hands and clenching her fists.

‘Are you sure?’ I ask.

‘Mum!’ Hannah cries. ‘Don’t go!’

‘Stay here, Han,’ Lorna says. She turns to me on her way out of the room. ‘Make sure she stays here.’

I give a brief nod. But as soon as Lorna has left the house, Hannah dashes past me and goes out of the front door after her mother. I hesitate for a moment before deciding that I’d better go after her. I grab the baby monitor from the side table, snatch my keys from the hall and head outside.

Striding up the driveway, I can see that Lorna is already squaring up to her husband, yelling at him, trying to keep Hannah behind her.

‘Kirstie!’

I turn my head to see Martin coming across his front lawn towards me. ‘Not now, Martin,’ I call out. ‘I’m busy.’

He doesn’t listen. ‘I just wanted to say that I didn’t see any signs of an intruder yesterday, so maybe you were mistaken.’

It takes me a few seconds to work out what he’s referring to.

‘Did you see the intruder again?’ Martin continues. ‘Is that why the police are here?’

I’m not about to answer his questions right now. I jog up the path to see if Hannah is okay, Martin following behind like an annoying shadow.

‘How could you?’ Lorna is yelling at her husband. ‘I trusted you! She’s a child! A child!’

I finally reach Hannah. She’s pulling at her mother’s arm while the police are trying to calm Lorna down.

‘Mrs Parkfield, I know you’re upset, but this isn’t helping anyone,’ DS Callaghan says.

‘I don’t care about helping anyone,’ Lorna snarls. ‘I just want this bastard to pay for what he’s done to my baby girl. To know he will never get away with this.’

‘What’s happening here?’ Martin asks, coming and standing by my side. I take another step closer to Hannah to increase the distance between us, wishing he would leave me alone. I turn away, hoping he’ll get the hint.

I notice the Cliffords have also come out of their house next door, and are standing on their driveway gawping at the proceedings with undisguised interest. Rosa catches my eye and gives me an enquiring look, but I don’t have the time or inclination to go over and explain. It’s not my place to gossip about what’s happening here. Mel has now joined them and they carry on talking, pointing, speculating.

Parkfield squares his shoulders and glares at his wife. ‘Lorna, what on earth has got into you? Have you gone mad? Get inside now. Take Hannah with you. The police are just here to ask me a few questions, that’s all.’ He suddenly catches sight of me and his scowl deepens, his top lip now curling in disgust. ‘I might have known this is something to do with you! What have you been saying to my wife? Spreading vile lies, no doubt.’ He turns to Callaghan. ‘Officers, I’m so sorry about this, I know how you hate false call-outs, and people wasting police time.’

‘Mrs Rawlings,’ Callaghan says, ‘maybe it would be best if you went back inside your house.’

‘Yes, Mrs Rawlings,’ Parkfield sneers. ‘Run along home.’

While Hannah is still out here, I’m not going anywhere. She and Lorna may still need my support, so I ignore the detective’s suggestion and Parkfield’s jibes.

He turns back to Callaghan, smoothing his tie. ‘I’m the headmaster at St George’s, and Kirstie Rawlings is one of my teaching staff. She’s on maternity leave, but it seems she may have developed a few mental health issues—’

‘Let’s not start making unfounded accusations,’ Callaghan interjects.

‘Hannah!’ I turn to see Callum come racing over from the direction of the building site, followed by his dad.

Hannah turns at the sound of her name, but when she sees who it is, she shakes her head and turns back to her mum.

‘You okay, Hannah?’ Callum arrives out of breath, but his dad puts a hand on his shoulder and stops him coming any closer.

One of the uniformed officers steps forward to usher Callum and his dad away. ‘Please can you gentlemen give us some space. This doesn’t concern you.’ He turns to Martin. ‘You too, sir.’ Martin mumbles something apologetic and shuffles back to his front garden while Carson guides a reluctant Callum away, but they’re still hovering outside number six, watching.

Parkfield stares Detective Callaghan in the eye while pointing his finger at me. ‘This woman is the worst kind of troublemaker,’ he cries. ‘Kirstie Rawlings has accused my family of all kinds of things. She’s completely unhinged. You can’t trust a word she says. Just this weekend, she was blind drunk at a neighbour’s barbecue. So drunk that she fell over and dropped her baby. I’m surprised no one’s called social services. There were witnesses. You can ask anyone—’

‘Yes,’ Callaghan interrupts. ‘I’m glad you brought that up. We’ll also be questioning you regarding allegations of assault against Mrs Rawlings…’

‘What!’

‘…following an incident at the same event, where she claims her drink was tampered with at your request.’

‘Absolute rubbish!’ Parkfield cries, his face colouring. ‘Look,’ he continues, his newly plastered smile translating as a grimace, a sheen of sweat on his forehead. ‘Let me just go inside, have a shower and get changed, then I’ll happily come to the police station to set the record straight regarding what Mrs Rawlings has been up to.’ He glances at his watch. ‘Let’s say seven o’clock, yes?’ He takes a breath. ‘Okay. Thank you, Detective.’ He gives a short nod, turns away and begins walking back towards his front door.

Callaghan raises an eyebrow at her colleague. They overtake him and block his path. ‘Stephen Parkfield,’ Callaghan says, ‘I am arresting you on suspicion of rape and sexual activity with a child, and of assault with intent to cause grievous bodily harm. You do not have to say anything, but it may harm your defence if you do not mention when questioned something which you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence.’

‘What are you talking about?’ he explodes. ‘I told you, it’s all nonsense. I’ll come and talk to you later. Surely you can give me a few hours! This is outrageous. Lorna, tell them!’

But Lorna has fallen silent.

Still protesting, Parkfield is handcuffed and led towards a police car, his face crimson with anger and embarrassment.

Hannah wanted to come out here to see her stepfather arrested, but I notice that she is now shaking uncontrollably. The shock is all too much. I put an arm around her and tell her how brave she is.

The detectives lead Parkfield, ashen-faced, to the marked car, guiding him into the back seat in full view of all the neighbours.

‘Are you okay, Hannah?’ I ask.

‘Yeah,’ she says, her voice shaky but clear. ‘I am now.’