Tom had informed the mortuary that he was bringing someone to possibly identify Penny and suggested that Nathan travel with him in his car. They hadn’t spoken on the journey, Tom leaving Nathan to his own thoughts, but as they stepped out of the car Tom felt a familiar tension. Although he had never been a fan of Nathan’s pugnacious character, he knew how difficult the next few minutes were going to be for him. Being asked to identify someone close was a dreadful experience, and he remembered having to do it himself not long ago when a woman very closely resembling his ex-girlfriend Leo had been found.

He would never forget how it had felt: the sick dread that he was going to see the face of someone who mattered to him lying lifeless, the colour drained from her cheeks. At least Penny, as he continued to think of her until proven otherwise, didn’t have any damage to her face. There were no visible signs of trauma.

He had suggested looking at photographs first, but Nathan didn’t feel that would be conclusive. Had he seen Hannah recently, he would have felt more comfortable with the idea, but he wasn’t confident that it would be enough.

‘If you’re still unsure after you’ve seen her, we can do a DNA analysis, so please do say if you have any doubts, one way or another.’

Nathan nodded, his eyes staring straight ahead as they entered the mortuary where Penny’s body was being held. Forensic evidence had already been taken, but Tom advised Nathan that he wouldn’t be able to touch her.

Tom couldn’t tell from his face or his demeanour how Nathan was feeling. His eyes were fixed, his mouth a straight line, and he walked with his hands by his sides. Only one aspect of his behaviour suggested that there was more than ice water running through Nathan’s veins: when they reached the trolley he seemed unable to look at the face of the woman lying on it. He gazed above her at the wall, psyching himself up for the moment when he would see what might be his sister’s body.

Tom looked down at her, not for the first time. She looked serene, at peace, and he knew that her appearance in itself wouldn’t be the cause of any distress. He waited, looking away from Nathan to take away any pressure. He felt, rather than saw, Nathan lower his head.

‘No.’ The voice was loud, decisive. Nathan turned away, heading towards the door.

‘Hang on,’ Tom said. ‘Speak to me, Nathan.’

‘It’s not her.’

‘You’re sure?’

‘Of course. The face shape is wrong. The nose is too big. She was the lucky one; she didn’t inherit the family’s worst feature like I did. I’m glad I saw her. It’s not Hannah.’