She studied them for a moment, as though weighing them up, before confiding, 'My son had a similar problem to Maurice. My Alan committed suicide when he was twenty-eight because he hated himself so much. No-one seemed able to help him. He served a prison sentence for assaulting one young girl. He had an awful time there and was terrified he would weaken, attack another young girl and get sent back. He was ashamed of what he'd done, but he told me when he got these urges they seemed to take him over.' In her lap, her hands gripped each other tightly. 'I think, in the end, he felt he could no longer cope with all the emotions raging inside him, so—he destroyed himself. He felt it was his only choice. I thought...' She bit her lip. 'I thought I might be able to help Maurice, where I'd failed
