I wrote that in a car park with a two-day-old in the back.
And on the eighth evening I put a photograph up. Not of her — of the bin bags on the path, with the changing bag, from about four feet away.
No caption. Nothing. I took it down at about two in the morning and it had eleven comments on it by then and four of them were from people who know his mother.
So when I say I spent two days crying and waiting for an apology, that is true for the nights.
In the daytime I was building. Solicitor, sister, photograph. By the ninth of October I had three different ways of making sure the version of that week that went round Ardwell was mine.
And then he came to the door and knelt down and told me about a two-millimetre pit, and every single one of those three things was still loaded and ready, and two of them I had already fired.
