Linda Westcarr tells me, with no sense of irony, she has been teaching her young granddaughter about stranger danger. But she is conscious that one day she will also have to impart a starker, far more horrific truth about a hazard that lurked in the heart of their own home.
'Eventually I'm going to have to tell her: 'Daddy killed your mummy', but at the moment I'm still grappling with the horror of it and it's really, really hard. I don't think I've even had time to grieve. There are so many spinning plates and it has been an absolute struggle.
'My daughter is dead and I cannot explain it. I'm still in shock. I jump up in the night and see her face, feel she's still in the house. I just don't believe she's gone.
'She was a beacon of light and optimism; a loving soul: vibrant, so funny; always dancing. She loved her job in a caring profession and we'd lived together all her life.
'She and I were a unit; compatible, we got on so well. It's as if I've lost my right arm. And it's not just her death. A child – my granddaughter – has been left behind.
