Buckling my seatbelt as we waited for our flight home from France to take off, my phone buzzed. It was a text from my husband, Scott, sitting three rows ahead of me and our children, Lucy, 13, and Jack, 16.

‘I’ve never felt closer to you now that you know the truth,’ it began. ‘I love you. You are always the best thing that ever happened to me.’

I didn’t know what to say. My body was numb but my mind whirred with questions: why me, why our children, why was this happening? I felt like I was living someone else’s life. Robotically, I typed out the words ‘I love you too’ and turned off my phone. I had nothing more to say.

Twenty-four hours earlier, Scott, my husband of almost a decade, had confessed to something that exploded our world in the worst way imaginable.

Even now, almost a year on, people ask of our sudden split: ‘Was it an affair?’

No, much worse than that.

Someone even asked me: ‘Has he killed someone?’

Again, no. But even with murder there’s a possibility I could have found a way to forgive him. I can never forgive what he actually did.

Scott, who had been married to Rosanna for almost ten years, confessed to abusing her 13-year-old daughter. (picture posed by models)

Because for almost a year my husband had been sexually abusing my 13-year-old daughter, Lucy, the little girl he had raised as his own since she was three.

Now, she was sitting next to me on the plane, anxious and scared but also relieved that the sickening truth was finally out and he could no longer hurt her.

Burying my horror and fury, my priority over the next few hours was simple: keep up the pretence to Scott that everything was fine, so he would not suspect that the police would be waiting for him when our evening flight landed in Newcastle.

As the children drifted off to sleep, I sat silently and wondered how my life had imploded so spectacularly in the space of a day.

Scott and I had met ten years earlier in 2015 while working for the same company.

I was in my late twenties, a single mum to Lucy, then two. Scott, who was a year younger, was living with his partner and young son, Jack, five. But within a week of meeting, he’d left his partner and practically moved in with me. We had this instant chemistry I’d never felt before with anyone.

It raised some eyebrows. There was talk that I was ‘after his money’, as he was pretty successful. But I had my own money and home. He was the one who moved in with only the clothes on his back.

Of course, I can’t deny it was a whirlwind. But Scott treated both Lucy and me so well. He was kind, generous and I felt special and loved. Things were incredible in the bedroom too, which may sound irrelevant now, but it’s not when you’re first together.

We set up a successful independent estate agents together and married in 2018. Two years later, his son Jack came to live with us permanently.

We were a happy, blended family and, on the surface, we had everything: a gorgeous house, beautiful children, expensive cars, lovely holidays.

But behind the scenes, things were not so idyllic. In the years after we married, Scott started having temper tantrums over the smallest things that would rear up out of nowhere, and he became so critical of me.

If I got my nails or hair done he’d say I was going to ‘ruin the business’ with my spending. He constantly knocked my business knowledge, even though I was the one bringing in clients. I started shrinking myself, keeping my thoughts and feelings quiet and going along with everything he said, just to keep the peace. It was exhausting.

He also started talking to other women inappropriately. Whether it was the receptionist at his local gym or old school friends, he would connect with them on Facebook and start sending overtly flirty messages such as ‘Hey beautiful...’. Whenever I confronted him, he’d rebuke me for ‘snooping’ and say I was being ridiculous.

What I still struggle to come to terms with is that he was so fantastic with the children.

He would always tell me that he felt like the luckiest person in the world to be able to love Lucy the way that I, her mother, loved her. He’d read her books at bedtime, he’d take care of her when she was sick – and she loved him in turn.

But since turning 13, she’d started having panic attacks and there were signs of self-harm. There were no obvious changes to our lives and she couldn’t explain why she was so anxious, even though I begged her to tell me what was wrong.

I really couldn’t understand it. I assumed it was teenage life overwhelming her, maybe a bit of bullying or academic pressure.

We paid for her to have therapy and Scott took her to every session, even sitting in on the appointments – of course, I now know why. But I never suspected in a million years that he could be abusing her.

Certainly, I had no clue anything was wrong when we booked our holiday to France last year. We all needed something to look forward to, so we opted for a week at a five-star, all-inclusive hotel.

Rosanna hoped a holiday in France would give the family something to look forward to. Little did she know, it would change their lives forever... (picture posed by models)

Within a day of arriving, Scott was in a mood. I’ve since found out this was because Lucy had said no to one of his advances, but at the time I simply thought he was being his usual grumpy self.

But five days in, Scott said he wanted to talk to me. His next words would change our lives forever: ‘I’ve been making Lucy touch me.’

I knew straight away what he meant, but whether it was shock or denial, my first questions were: ‘What? Where? How?’

As he explained what he had been making her do to him, I stood there unable to speak, or even move. I don’t even know if there is a word to describe the kind of numbness I felt in that moment. I could barely breathe.

Though I could never have dreamed he’d do something like this, I knew he was telling the truth.

To any mother reading this who thinks they would fly off the handle and hurt the man responsible in such a situation, all I can say is that you have no idea how you will react in the moment until it comes.

He just kept talking and talking, saying things like: ‘You’re not going to want to have anything to do with me’ and ‘I’ll tell you everything you want to know’.

But what he never said was sorry. In fact, he was disturbed enough to claim Lucy had enjoyed it because she didn’t complain, which sickened me. There was no remorse, just concern for himself and how I might feel towards him now, and attempts to justify what he’d done.

Finally, my throat tight, my stomach clenched, I simply said ‘Shut up’ and went to find Lucy.

She was in her room and had no idea what was going on when I took her to the hotel lobby, sat her down and said: ‘You need to talk to me. What is going on?’

She looked confused and shaken. It was only when I asked her if Scott had made her touch him that she eventually nodded and said: ‘It’s true. We did kiss. He’s been making me do this...’

As she told me the other things he’d done to her, she began to cry as I held her.

I needed facts – I needed to know when, how often, where – but she was so upset she could barely tell me anything other than it had happened more than five times, over the course of several months since she’d become a teenager.

Despite my shock and fury, I knew I needed to stay as calm as possible in order to keep Lucy calm.

I called my mum back in the UK and told her what had happened, saying I needed help to get home quickly. I then called a trusted friend who said he would call the police. Before hanging up, I told him: ‘Scott needs to pay for this when we get home.’

I knew that Scott was in a very delicate mental state. He had already threatened suicide as a result of his confession.

So, keeping Lucy well away from him, I spoke to the holiday company, explaining everything and asking if they could fly us home as soon as possible. They managed to arrange a flight the following evening.

The next 24 hours were incredibly hard. I needed to be there for my daughter but I didn’t want Scott to kill himself. My friend texted to say the police would be waiting for Scott when we landed in Newcastle that evening. I knew I had to get him on that plane without him suspecting a thing.

I didn’t crumble. I didn’t cry or fall to my knees. I remained calm for both my children. Scott’s son Jack was horrified when we told him the truth.

But children can surprise you with their resilience. They both took my lead and remained calm. Although we kept well away from Scott, if you’d seen us that day, you’d have thought we were simply a mother and her children enjoying their holiday.

That evening, as the four of us prepared to go to the airport, I told Lucy that the police would be waiting for Scott at the other end, but that we had to pretend everything was normal in order to get him on the plane.

I told her that if I was holding his hand or cuddling him, it was purely to keep up the pretence and that, truthfully, I felt sick to my stomach.

It was awful asking her to keep up the lie that things were ok when that’s what Scott had been asking her to do for so long. But she understood.

The airline was fantastic. I assume they must have been in touch with the police and knew what was going on, because they placed Scott three rows ahead of us, claiming they didn’t have room on our aisle.

Once we landed, Scott moved to the front of the plane with other passengers while we stayed well behind.

As he walked into the airport building, I saw six armed police officers waiting for him. It was such a slick manoeuvre I don’t think the other passengers even realised what was happening as they handcuffed him and took him off through some doors. It was the last time we saw him.

When they landed in Newcastle, six armed police officers were waiting at their airport to arrest Scott. They never saw him again, and he was sentenced to just under five years in prison (picture posed by models)

The children and I simply kept moving along with the lines of passengers, though I could barely put one foot in front of the other. Our luggage was first off the carousel and we grabbed it and made our way to arrivals, where we found my mum and stepdad waiting. That’s when we all broke down. The tears came flooding out.

Yet still, despite everything, I was worried about Scott.

I knew Lucy would be fine; she had me. But you don’t suddenly switch off your feelings for the man you’ve been married to for eight years and I was still in shock. The all-consuming anger I would feel later hadn’t had time to really kick in.

I remember looking at my phone and checking his location. I could see he was speeding up the motorway towards our home town. We didn’t even get to say goodbye.

We went to my mum’s that night and I didn’t sleep a wink – but Lucy slept more peacefully than she had in a long, long time.

The next day the police came and she agreed to do a video statement.

While nothing that happened was her fault, she said Scott told her she was ‘helping him’. It made her feel like she was responsible for everything that occurred.

Afterwards, I couldn’t eat for weeks. Even a mouthful of toast would make me vomit and I lost a lot of weight.

The legal process began. Scott pleaded guilty to several counts of sexual assault to a 13-year-old child, which would spare us all the pain of a trial. He was placed on remand and for months it was a rollercoaster as we waited for the sentencing. We went through the motions of living, but we were simply surviving. We did the things we had to do but none of our hearts were in it.

I’d go into the office but could barely function and would come home and cry. Lucy would go to school but was sometimes physically sick with the strain. Telling her teachers why was dreadful but they were fantastic and looked after her brilliantly.

The sentencing came earlier this year and Lucy said she wanted to read a victim impact statement in court. Everyone told her she didn’t have to do it – that she never had to set eyes on him again – but she was determined.

I was so proud of her but it was horrific to have to listen when she stood up and read over three pages she’d written herself.

‘I did love you, I thought you were my everything but you made me feel like I didn’t want to be here any more,’ she said, as Scott cried his eyes out. ‘I know I’m supposed to forgive you, but I can’t forgive you. You ruined my life. I said “no” and you did it to me anyway. You have no idea how much that destroys someone.’

Because he had shown ‘remorse’, and promised to go to rehab, Scott was given just under a five-year sentence – not nearly enough for what he did.

He was also given a restraining order so he can never see Lucy again and will be put on the sex offenders register.

Today, the children and I are rebuilding our lives as best we can. For months, Lucy would wake in the night needing to talk, and I simply sat and listened. But she’s having more therapy and is being so brave.

I’m so very proud of her. I think she’s going to be alright.

People ask if I feel any guilt about what happened and, while it may sound surprising, the honest answer is no. Of course, I feel bad that Lucy went through all this but there was no way I could know what was going on. That said, I don’t think I’ll ever get over it.

I don’t feel any ‘closure’ because Scott was jailed. I don’t even feel relief. I don’t feel ‘grateful’ that he pleaded guilty and spared us the trial. I don’t recognise any of those feelings.

All I feel is anger – a lot of anger – betrayal and the overriding question of why. Why did he do it? Why did he choose to ruin everything?

Though I’ve tried to excise Scott from our lives, I still occasionally find pictures of us together on my phone and when I look at them, I see a stranger.

I have no idea who this man is. For ten years we shared a life, a bed, a business and I thought we had a future – but I was wrong. I really didn’t know him at all.

I just know my children and I are far better off without him.

• Rosanna Godwynn is a pseudonym. Names and identifying details have been changed

As told to Jill Foster

For confidential support, call Samaritans on 116 123 or visit samaritans.org or contact Childline on 0800 1111 or visit childline.org.uk