Tom made dinner for everyone tonight, which would be great if only he hadn’t cooked something that only he liked. We all tried to eat it, but Rosie just couldn’t. When I said I’d make her something else, Tom shouted at me to sit down and said she could either eat every single bit of it or go without until breakfast.

She went without.

Two hours later, Rosie went up to bed but came back down saying she felt sick and dizzy. She curled up on my lap, cuddled into me and whispered so that Tom couldn’t hear, that she was starving. She was pale and clutching her stomach. I was too scared to defy Tom and get her something to eat, not wanting another night of his rage – and definitely not wanting it aimed at Rosie – so instead I just sat and cuddled her until she fell asleep.

I feel like the worst mum in the world.