The door bangs behind her, and Mark sighs heavily, guilt in the eyes he raises to meet Anton’s.

‘This is my house,’ Anton says, his voice low with anger. ‘I say what happens to it. Do you hear?’

‘Fine,’ Mark answers, moving towards the kitchen, like a sulky teenager. ‘But I don’t know why you stay here. There’s nothing but bad memories and ghosts.’

He sleeps, and when he dreams, images flood through him awash with violence. He dreams of Nigel and Salim, of Fat Eric and Liddy Fitz. He dreams they are back in the prison gym, and that he is on the bench press, trapped beneath barbells that have fallen on his chest. He tries to cry out, but there is just the echo of his own voice, joining the chorus of souls crying out for pity or justice. Fat Eric approaches, and Anton tries to ask for help. In the corner, a small boy plays with his toys, not watching. Fat Eric pushes down on the barbells, bursting Anton’s chest. He feels blood rushing into the cavity behind his ribcage, but when he opens his eyes, it’s not Eric pushing down on him, but Charlotte, her dress hanging open, revealing the livid wound. Anton’s heart is engorged, blood rising into his mouth – he tastes the salt of it on his tongue.

He wakes, his skin cold and slick with sweat. Pressing his tongue gingerly against the inside of his lip, he tastes blood. When he puts his fingers to it, they come away red.

Voices in the hallway. Whispers coming up the stairs.

He cannot cope with this. Cannot cope with Mark’s ministrations, his concern. He needs to be alone with his thoughts and his memories.

The voices grow nearer, and he feels his anger bubbling up from within. When the door opens, he turns, eyes wild, ready to pounce.

‘I’ve brought someone to see you,’ Mark says gently.

And then she steps into the room behind him, and instantly his anger falls away.

The nursery rhyme in his head again:

The Spider turned him round about and went into his den,

For well he knew the silly Fly would soon come back again …

The smallest smile pulls at her lips. Shyness in her gaze.

He holds out his hand to her. ‘Come a little closer,’ he says.

18

Leah

‘You’re sure you don’t mind?’ Mark had asked. ‘It’ll just be for a week or two.’

‘It’s no problem,’ Leah had assured him.

It was only afterwards that she considered what Jake might say about it. How he would react. She knew without having to ask that he wouldn’t be happy.

Still, she had made the commitment, and it wasn’t much to ask, really. That she keep an eye on Anton, check in on him from time to time. She could easily call up for five minutes after work each day.