It felt like the defence had hit a brick wall, Meg thought, despondently, reflecting on today’s proceedings. She was in Laura’s bedroom, giving the daily treats to the rodents, as per the very precise list of instructions her daughter had left. A handful of dandelions for Horace the guinea pig, which he scoffed in seconds. She stroked him with her finger before moving on, hand-feeding some cucumber and pumpkin seeds to the gerbils. She did a quick spot clean to keep things fresh in between the deep clean she was instructed to do each week, then topped up the water in each cage. This whole process made her feel sad and worried. Laura cared for the welfare of each and every creature she kept and now, there she was, in danger, unaware and far, far away.

She stared at a purple cushion with a large L embroidered on it, on the bed. Then glanced around the room with a wistful smile. Her daughter’s string of fairy lights; her stack of boxes that contained her precious, different-coloured trainers; the large map of the world; the clutter of her make-up and hair products on her dressing table; the fluffy rug; framed inspirational quotes dotted around the walls.

IF I WAS ORGANIZED, I’D BE DANGEROUS!

THE ONLY KIND OF SHIP THAT CAN NEVER SINK IS FRIEND-SHIP!

IF YOU GO ON DOING WHAT YOU’VE ALWAYS DONE, YOU’LL ALWAYS DO WHAT YOU’VE ALWAYS DONE!

Then the photograph on the bookshelf. Taken just months before that fatal day. All four of them doing a family fun run in Reigate, which they’d done with Nick’s brother and his family for charity.

The memory twinged, painfully. She turned and looked out of the window at the rear garden. A thrush was washing itself in the birdbath. It was a gloriously warm evening. Just five weeks shy of the longest day. Normally she loved this time of year. Normally. But nothing was normal any more. It never had been since Nick and Will had died. The day her world had skewed sideways. And had remained sideways until last week when it had skewed again, this time completely upside down.

It was 6.20 p.m. A long, light evening stretched out ahead. She should sit out in the garden and read a book, but she had barely read a single page since that first phone call last Saturday evening. Nor could she focus on anything much on television. Alison had been telling her for ages about a series called Succession. She’d tried the first episode a few nights ago in her attempt to switch off from all the horror of her predicament, but within seconds her mind had wandered.