The adrenaline that had kept her going this far suddenly drained from her body so that by the time she reached Westminster Bridge, she was ready to lie back and be drawn in by the current. It would be a relief, in this moment, to be pulled down into the darkness.

As if understanding the momentousness of what was taking place, the clouds burst and it started to rain, acidic water merging with tears that she made no effort to wipe away, moving without the slightest attention to where she was going. When her phone rang some time later, she was seated at one of the outside tables of a bar overlooking the river, working her way through a tumbler of gin, her fingers numb.

Madeleine’s number flashed on the screen of her phone on the table and she let it go through to voicemail.

‘What the fuck is going on? I just got a call from Johnny, he told me you had a fight with Emsworth, that you walked out—’

Fleetingly, Gabriela panicked that she had to warn her friend. After all, they knew about her as well. But Madeleine was big enough, and connected enough, to look after herself. Besides, she had no significant others to worry about. Gabriela’s children were her weakness; with a stab of jealousy, she realised Madeleine had nothing comparable to be threatened with. Her life, and any threats against it, were wholly her own.

Pressing ‘delete’ on the voicemail, Gabriela looked out over the skyline, soaking in the calm that suddenly enveloped her. It was as if she had been purged and was now light as air, safely drifting in this anomalous space, completely separate from the past or any future, whatever it might bring.

When her phone rang again an hour or so later, the sight of Tom’s name took her by surprise. Tom. He would be calling to ask if she would be home in time for dinner. It was nearly 5 p.m., according to the numbers on the screen as she let his call fade out, unanswered. He would be anticipating another evening of bathtime and stories; the potential for a drink on the sofa with his wife, an early night perhaps. Everything just as it always was.

As she stood to leave some time later, the buildings ahead appeared like a parade of faces, lined in judgement, watching each step that she took, their eyes never leaving her back as she disappeared into the tube.

Chapter 25

Isobel

Si is already at his desk by the time I reach the office. From the way I drop my bag by my desk, he and Ben can already sense my mood. Neither attempts to make conversation as I turn on my monitor, the machine groaning back to life. Swigging aggressively at a takeaway coffee cup while I wait for the screen to light up, I try Maureen’s number again but there is no answer.