It had been a last-minute decision, made in panic, to take the remainder of the pills from her washbag. She has no idea if the dosage she has left will be enough, or too much. She is not thinking straight enough to weigh up the risk. All she knows is that she has to get Layla out.

Fleetingly, she thinks of Madeleine’s final instructions: ‘In order to get witness protection, we’ll need you to testify against Emsworth. Your eyewitness testimony of the meeting in Moscow, and the photo of the papers he was copying. And anything else you have on him.’

‘Where’s Layla now?’ Madeleine had added, businesslike, and Gabriela had barely registered the fact that she already knew about her daughter’s existence; there was no time to question how long she’d been aware of this double life of hers, nodding along with her lies, her jaw tensed.

‘She’s with her nanny,’ Gabriela said and Madeleine nodded.

‘OK. Well, I assume you’ll want to take your daughter with you.’

‘Of course.’

‘Very well. You have twenty-four hours to get her and gather Tom and the kids somewhere safe. I’ll be waiting for your call.’

Neither of them had reckoned on Ivan being home. Because why would he be?

‘Another glass of wine?’ she asks as they settle in front of the television after dinner.

‘No,’ Ivan says firmly, holding up a hand. ‘I feel—’

He cuts himself off, and in the hallway she hears Polina moving back towards the living room. Slipping her head around the doorway, she looks pale. ‘Thank you for supper. I have loaded the dishwasher. If you don’t mind, I’ll check on Layla then I’ll head to bed. I’m feeling tired.’

‘You and me both,’ Ivan says, stifling a yawn.

‘I know. Me too. Actually, why don’t we go up?’

It takes less than ten minutes before Ivan is fast asleep. Resisting the urge to feel his pulse to check he is alive, she gets out of bed and heads into the hallway. Through the crack in Polina’s bedroom door, Gabriela sees that she is also asleep.

Making her footsteps as light as she can, she moves into Layla’s room and lifts her daughter slowly from the cot, willing her not to cry out. When she starts to stir, Gabriela buries her face in her baby’s head and whispers hushing noises before pressing her daughter to her chest and feeling her breath level out again.

The buggy is already assembled in the hall and she tiptoes down the stairs, holding her breath so tightly that she fears she might pass out.

As she reaches the bottom of the stairs, she hears a light switch on above her and she stops, her whole body frozen to the spot. Clutching Layla to her, she listens to the footsteps crossing the landing towards the top of the stairs.