But she was.

And she still is.

I left her there, in the dark, lying motionless on the floor. Alone.

There is water, and silence, and far too much blood.

Nobody knows I was there. And nobody knows she is there … except me.

I’m a good person. He used to tell me that, a long time ago. How good I was. How precious. That I was his angel, the light of his life. Until she took him away.

What would he think of me now, if he were still here? If he knew what I had become? A murderer?

A cold fear falls over me. He can’t help me now. Nobody can help me. I am alone, and I just want to hide away, to close my eyes and wait for it all to go away. But it’s not going away, is it? Oh my God, what have I done? And what am I supposed to do now?

Chapter 1

PRUE

Prue Harris plonked her bulging suitcase down beside her on the pavement, just missing a muddy puddle, moved her camera bag across to her other shoulder and stretched her aching back. She took the crumpled sheet of paper from her raincoat pocket and looked again at the address she had scribbled down. Belle Vue Court. Yes, this was definitely the place. She stared up at the ugly three-storeyed block in front of her. The big black front door, with its peeling paint, was flanked by rows of doorbells, one for each flat, with a little white card beside each one announcing the name of the occupant. Prue struggled up the three wide concrete steps, her battered old case thumping against her heels, wishing she had thought to buy herself one of those modern waterproof ones with wheels and a long handle, and searched for flat number 9.

Madalyn Cardew, it said, in fading ballpoint pen, on the card. Yes, that must be her, although in the few emails they had exchanged so far she had only ever called herself Madi. It was only now that Prue realised she had not even known her surname. How strange, for a woman to be handing over her flat, and everything in it, for a whole month without even having exchanged full names! In fact, she knew very little about Madi Cardew. What she looked like, how old she was, even if she had a husband or a family. Just that, like herself, Madi had wanted, or needed, a bit of time away from her normal day-to-day life, had been desperate for some time alone in a new environment far from home. Beyond that, no questions had been asked. Prue valued her privacy and Madi, no doubt, did too.

The keys had arrived by registered post the previous day. Prue had suggested that Madi leave them in the care of a neighbour, so she could pick them up when she got here, which was exactly what Prue herself had done with her own keys, handing them over to her friend Sian that morning, but Madi had quickly made it clear that she did not have those kind of neighbours. Most were out all day and, even when they were in, they tended to keep themselves to themselves. And hiding the keys under a plant pot somewhere was far too risky. This wasn’t a cosy Norfolk village. This was London, and it was just not that kind of place.