'Well done Julie, you absolute superstar. You've saved that little boy.' Mitzi gushes whilst sloshing red wine into my obnoxiously large fish bowl glass.

'Well - it wasn't just me. It was a collaborative effort you know? When multidisciplinary teams communicate right. It works well. It's how it should be."

"Too right my darling. You've got all these teams - police, social workers, doctors, teachers. They've got to share information haven't they? That's what we've noticed with Charlie's school. None of them bloody communicate.'

' You can insist on a conference meeting about his plan though Mitz'

' Done that. Bloody seventy million times it seems. If it's not someone quitting the job, there's some other excuse. We had a real nice lady come along, made all these great promises, listened to us. Wrote it all down. We thought, finally we're getting somewhere! Next thing we hear she's quit the job! Something about a stress induced stomach ulcer. And then the whole tiresome cycle starts all over a bloody gain!'

'I'm sorry Mitz. If you want me to have a word I will.'

'Oh my gawd!!! Listen to me harping on when tonight should be all about you birthday girl. I'm so sorry!! Let me get the pasta, it should be done now!'

She slinks out and I hear the clip clop of her stilletoes on the parquet floor. I hear some exclamations about the pasta boiling over. I feel so sleepy and yet my ears are ringing. I allow the cushions behind me to hold my full weight, I sink in...and my eyes softly rest on the navy feature wall directly in front on me, the flickering candles on the shelves, the black and white photos of Mitzi's perfect three kids. Oh man, infertility aches. I try and block it out but there it is. I take deep gulp of wine and characteristically, it sloshes down my front and I now i have smelly, sticky red wine boobs. I feel rage and then I start laughing. And then I start crying.

Mitzi backs into the room with her tray, pushing the door open with her hip, oblivious it seems.

'So, you know that Christmas tree pasta dad always used to cook us on Christmas Eve? I found it! I've got three types of cheese too.'

'I'm sorry Mitz, I'm a bit of a mess.'

' Oh no! Are you ok? Are you thinking about the case?'

'I'm thinking, I'm thinking that he is just one kid. And I'm thinking of all the sleepless nights, all the sacrifices, all the battling I had to do just get that bastard in the dock Mitzi and what for? One boy. Scarred for the rest of his life. Being passed from pillar to post now. Probably. Foster family to foster family.

I can't remember the last night Mitch and I had sex. I can't remember the last time I didn't have nightmares. I can't remember the last time I didn't close my eyes and see something fucking awful.'

'You're tired babe. Youre just very tired. It's a wonderful thing you did. You inspire me so much.'

She's forcibly scooped me out of my seat and put her arms around me. And I sob.

"But it's not enough. Knowing that they are out there and I'm having a lovely time with you here. It's wrong. It feels wrong. How can I enjoy anything now? I can't get those photos out my head sis. The burn marks.'

I weep onto her shoulder. She strokes my hair.

' You enjoy tonight. Tomorrow we go to the spa. You bloody well make sure you're on tip top form girl. Because Monday morning. You've got to get back on that horse and tell Satan not today. These bastards aren't going to get away with it.'

'Don't you get it? I can't afford a weekend. They are out there right now! Getting away with it. Beating their kids, lying, manipulating, isolating....there is not Friday. There is not Monday. There is just fucking now. We've got to save them all now!!'

It had been a long time coming, but now I felt I could truly call myself a slayer of monsters.