He parked in a windy street, mostly deserted except for a few late-night drinkers. Skeleton trees were silhouetted against the charcoal sky. Hauling his rucksack on his back, he began to walk, not knowing where he was heading. Somewhere above him, an owl hooted. The waxing crescent moon was a thin silver curved line. The calming rush of water drew him towards a river and a small footbridge. The damp reek of mud and plants and discarded rubbish hit the back of his throat. As he stepped onto the bridge, it creaked as he moved. His foot slipped and his hand shot out to the railing. He climbed up and sat astride. At last his head had drained of all thoughts and chatter but when he touched his face, it was wet with tears. His grip on the rail slipped sending him towards the edge; the rucksack from his shoulder pulled him to the side. He let the bag drop into the black water with the satisfying sound of a heavy weight plunging into its depths. From across the road, a man shouted something he couldn’t hear.

A warm feeling of peace washed over him and he stepped off the edge, arms outstretched.

Chapter Sixty

Maddy: December 2019

It is a sunny but deceivingly cold day. After school, Maddy gives Emily her favourite tea of sausages and mash followed by raspberry ripple ice-cream, then takes her over to Sarah’s for a sleepover with Sophie. Sarah is going to call in and feed Poppy and Daisy and their new ‘rescue’ dog. She told them an old friend of hers couldn’t look after him anymore and she couldn’t say no. Emily became tearful and believes it was meant to be because he has the same name as their dog. She tells them she is meeting an old friend for dinner in London and won’t be home until very late.

Instead, she drives through the heavy evening traffic up to Huntingdon. She knows Alison is back home with the baby; she called the hospital earlier to check.

It seems like only moments later that it’s approaching 10 p.m. and she’s arriving in Lawn End. She watches number twenty-nine for almost an hour until all the usual lights are off and it’s safe to stalk up to the door and let herself in. The house is silent. There is the usual lamp on in the landing, which gives her some visibility in the hall. She waits a few moments before putting the door on the latch so she’s not fiddling for knobs when she’s trying to get out. Any moment, she thinks the baby will cry for her, but there’s only the permanent low hum of the air vent in the kitchen.