She stared at the text, her thumb hovering over the screen as if she might swipe it away. She swallowed hard and tried to think. She was scared to look up but she did it anyway. Craig had turned and was watching her, tears in his eyes.

‘What is it?’ he said.

But he knew. He knew she knew. So much between them, the connections of the past, the thread that has always linked them. She gave it away in her face as she looked at him.

‘Is everything OK?’ he said, taking a step towards her.

She couldn’t help it, flinched at his movement and stepped backwards towards the kitchen drawer where the knives were.

‘Oh,’ he said. ‘I see.’

He was still walking as he talked, hands out in front of him.

She stepped back, phone still in her hand, Hannah’s message glowing at her, breaking her heart, breaking her connection with Craig, although that would never really be broken, not even by this. That was the worst thing, she would still be tied to him after this was over.303

‘It’s not what it seems like,’ Craig said, as if he’d been caught flirting with a waitress. ‘You don’t know what happened.’

She made a grab for the drawer but Craig was on her, fist into her stomach making her double over breathless, trying to suck in air, as he took the phone from her and grabbed her by the hair, yanking downwards, making her lose balance and stagger so that she fell into the corner of the kitchen table, which jabbed at her temple, pain rushing through her like a drug. She blinked and tried to stand up, heard the drawer open, the rattle of cutlery, then she was pulled into the seat and felt the knife against her throat, the point pushing into the skin, taut as she angled her head away.

He stared at her with a look of infinite sorrow, his eyes wet with tears as if this was all deeply upsetting for him. He glanced at the phone screen and shook his head.

‘I never wanted this,’ he said softly. ‘I never meant for any of it to happen, you have to understand.’

‘Craig,’ Jenny said, feeling the pulse in her neck against the knife blade, her blood begging to be let out.

He pulled a seat over and sat next to her, leaning in, the knife never leaving her throat. ‘Whatever you’re going to say, don’t.’

As if this was a marital tiff, an argument about taking the bins out or drinking too much at a party.

He shook his head and looked at the whiteboard, the picture of Mel up there surrounded by men.

‘You know me,’ he said. ‘You know I’m weak.’

Jenny swallowed. ‘This isn’t weak, it’s evil.’

‘I’m not evil.’

‘You killed someone. She was pregnant.’

Tears were on his cheeks, dripping onto the kitchen table.