She sealed the phone and wallet in evidence bags and stripped off her gloves. The bedroom was full of smells that were just too personal, and the warm ripeness of body odour from the sheets seemed thick enough to coat her tongue. “Are you okay here for a few minutes?” she asked. “I need a bit of fresh air.”

The air outside was very fresh, with hail bouncing amongst the raindrops and crunching underfoot. She found an isolated spot down a small ginnel, away from the house and the prying eyes of its neighbours, and somewhat sheltered by a conifer’s overhanging branches. She took her phone from her pocket with chilled fingers and fluffed her passcode twice. Even when she’d managed to access the main screen, she wasn’t sure of her intentions. Although she was no longer afraid of waking Jem, she didn’t know whether it would be better to text her and try to arrange a face-to-face meeting, or phone her and see whether she would actually answer.

A half-melted hailstone dripped from a branch and slithered down her neck, as if goading her into making a decision.

“All right! All right!” she said, and dialled Jem’s number.

* * *

Jem answered her phone without looking at the caller ID. Forewarned might be forearmed, but it also allowed her to be a gutless wonder.

“Hello?”

“Jem?” The voice sounded strange, its features distorted by pain and panic.

“Paula? Is that you?” Jem did check the caller ID then, almost sure but still needing confirmation. “Are you all right?”

“No.” Paula started to cry. “Can you come to the cafe? I can’t get hold of Dan, and the police say they’ll be half an hour.”

“Of course I can,” Jem said, rummaging in the drawer for her car keys. “What’s happened?”

“They burned me,” Paula whispered. “I couldn’t stop them.” Jem heard her retch and then vomit, and the call cut off.

“Paula? Shit!”

Jem didn’t waste time trying to redial. She kicked off her slippers on the way to the door and snatched her coat from the end of the banister.