I can’t think of a reason to stop Maisie visiting Shaun at Joanne’s house.

She wasn’t happy when Joanne picked her up from her class last week. I started to explain about my dilemma with the car but she just won’t hold a proper conversation with me these days.

‘I told you I didn’t want to go and you said you’d sort it, Mum,’ she says sulkily as she shuffles into the hallway. ‘But you haven’t sorted it and I’m going there more and more.’

‘At least you’re getting to see your dad quite a bit,’ I offer, but realise it sounds a bit dismissive. What can I do? Shaun won’t hear of anything being amiss with the arrangement and somehow, it’s become my problem when it’s all his doing in the first place.

I swallow down the twisty feeling I have inside, we kiss goodbye and I wave her off as Shaun’s car drives away. I don’t lie around downstairs, surfing endless crap on the Sky channels, but go upstairs to the study to work.

I have a really productive morning, easily completing the important tasks I’m responsible for on our current cases.

It’s one of those gorgeous winter days when it’s fine and sunny, and although I can sense the cool backdrop of winter lurking, there’s a faint warmth to the day, particularly in the big kitchen living space, flanked as it is by the French doors and their floor-to-ceiling expanse of glass.

At lunchtime, I take the trouble to set a few bits out on a wooden platter… just for one. Italian meats, a few olives, some sun-dried tomatoes and a sliver of Manchego I still had in the fridge. I slice up a small ciabatta roll and sit at the breakfast bar with the doors slightly open to enjoy the sharp freshness of the air which serves to clear my head a little.

It’s nice to feel like a grown-up and it makes me realise that I don’t really buy much food for me; I buy the stuff Maisie used to love and put an extra portion out for myself.

Why did Shaun and I never make the effort to enjoy a simple lunch like this together at weekends? We became like ships in the night, our only aim to cover care for our daughter. As if we – our relationship – never mattered.

After lunch, I lie on the sofa and read. I actually read! For all of ten minutes before I stop with a jolt and a panic that somehow I’ve forgotten to do something. But no. I haven’t forgotten anything. My case work is done, Maisie is safe with her dad… It’s simply a luxury I’ve never known but which I certainly intend to embrace from now on.

I spend the afternoon catching up on weeks’ worth of cleaning and ironing. Not such a luxury, but by late afternoon, as I sit with a cup of tea and a biscuit, the satisfaction is palpable.

It’s so true that small tasks can give a sense of achievement far beyond their perceived importance. Little pleasures, like a short nap, time to enjoy a simple lunch without multitasking. Just giving myself some time for me, rather than family, home or work.

It sounds silly, and of course I know on an intelligent level that there’s more to life than work. But it’s only now, at the ripe old age of thirty-four, that I’m finally understanding that simple stuff can enrich my life. Better late than never, I guess.

I jump up at a banging on the front door. Glancing at the wall clock as I dash into the hallway, I see it’s only just turned four o’clock.

I agreed with Shaun for Maisie to be back by six so she has time to have her bath and relax a bit before bed, and to be fair, he’s kept to our agreed timings since I expressed my annoyance after her late return from their farm visit.

I open the door and jump back in exaggerated surprise.

‘Well, I didn’t expect you back yet!’ I say in jest.

Maisie stumbles into the hallway. Her eyes are dark and haunted, and she doesn’t say a word as she slides past me like a shadow.

‘Whatever’s the matter?’ I look behind me, but she’s already darted into the depths of the house. Shaun stands there looking blank, his hands stuffed into his jeans pockets. ‘What’s wrong with her?’

‘I don’t know,’ he says. ‘The girls have had a nice afternoon, at a swimming party. One of Piper’s school friends whose mum said Maisie was welcome to go too. Apparently Maisie knows her from dancing.’

‘But Maisie didn’t take her swim stuff to yours.’

‘She borrowed one of Piper’s swimsuits.’ He shrugs.

‘OK, so they had a nice time at the party… then what happened?’

‘Nothing happened. Jo picked them up, and when Maisie got back, she just said she wanted to come home.’

I look back over my shoulder, but the house is quiet. Wherever Maisie is, she’s unusually silent.

‘Did you ask her why she wanted to come home early… if anything was wrong?’

‘Of course I did! I can perform parental duties perfectly well when you’re not around, you know.’

I wait for his defensiveness to ebb.

‘She said she just felt tired,’ he says, his voice dropping back to its usual octave. ‘That’s all. We wondered if you’d drilled it into her that she had to come home early.’

‘No. I haven’t.’

‘It’s bound to affect her, Em. Your paranoia.’ He stares at me. ‘These outbursts of yours… I feel like I hardly know you any more.’

‘I’d better go and see if she’s all right.’ I start to close the door. ‘Bye then.’

Just before it clicks shut, he calls out: ‘Emma?’

I open it again and stick my head out.

‘Don’t do that thing you always do.’

‘What thing?’

‘Make a big deal out of it with Maisie,’ he says, pulling his car keys out of his jacket pocket and jiggling them in his hand. ‘She’s fine and nothing happened. OK?’

I press my lips together and close the door without answering.

I’ve seen my daughter virtually every single day for the last ten years, and if there’s one thing I know for sure at this moment, it’s this:

Maisie is most certainly not fine.