‘Yes. She’s on antibiotics and the ruptures have been sealed. There’s no indication of contamination. But that’s why we’re keeping a close eye on her. Just for careful observation.’

‘Thank you.’

The doctor led her through the labyrinthine viscera of the hospital, which somehow seemed much larger and deeper than the building could contain, to the high-care ward. As promised, she was allowed to peek in at her mother, who was looking peaceful in the bed, and totally out of it. She had a drip line in her forearm and oxygen into her nose, but no deep intubation or scary-looking appliances were connected to her.

‘So, we’ll let you know when she’s awake, and you can come and speak to her briefly. I’m sure she’ll like to see you.’ That small acknowledgement, the word of human recognition, almost made Petra cry.

Back in the waiting room, she texted Suki then opened the drawing app on her tablet and started to sketch, in deliberate evasion of the reality overload. For the first time all week, she left the noisy, superficial space in her mind, and felt focused and quiet. It was almost nine when her phone vibrated her out of her bubble. Her coffee was cool and half a worked-up portrait was staring at her from the screen – a woman with orange hair and her face in half-light. Pale, freckled skin in the light, and in the shadowed part the etchings of the bones and rictus teeth of blown-away flesh.

Coming to as if out of a dream, she refocused her eyes and looked around her. The waiting room was busier now, the day patients checking in, outpatients waiting for their appointments. Leaving her coat and coffee flask on her seat to reserve it, she went to the reception desk.

‘Is there any update on my mother? Is she awake?’ The receptionist, Geeta by her name tag, was not the same woman she’d spoken to earlier. ‘Helena Orff. Dr Saidi said I could see her when she was awake.’

Geeta checked a list on her computer. ‘Not yet. We’ll let you know.’

Back at her corner seat, Petra scrutinised the woman on the tablet for a long moment – who was she? where had she come from? – before turning the screen off and picking up her phone.

The text came from Helena’s number. An instant of relief. But: <I’m sorry she’s involved your mother now. She shouldn’t have done that.>

Her heart plummeted. Ellis Brown was playing his stupid tricks on her again.

<Who is SHE?> But Petra knew – Ellis Brown had told her Olivia Jouval had targeted Vincent and her.

The next message was from the Warwickshire County Council’s billing enquires number that she’d phoned a couple of weeks before. <You know who. Now you need to know why. You need to connect the dots.>