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Chapters (62)
  1. Title
  2. Copyright
  3. Contents
  4. About the Author
  5. About the Book
  6. Dedication
  7. Your Worst Nightmare
  8. ONE
  9. TWO
  10. THREE
  11. FOUR
  12. FIVE
  13. SIX
  14. SEVEN
  15. EIGHT
  16. NINE
  17. The Answer to All Your Prayers
  18. TEN
  19. ELEVEN
  20. TWELVE
  21. THIRTEEN
  22. FOURTEEN
  23. FIFTEEN
  24. SIXTEEN
  25. SEVENTEEN
  26. EIGHTEEN
  27. NINETEEN
  28. TWENTY
  29. TWENTY-ONE
  30. TWENTY-TWO
  31. TWENTY-THREE
  32. TWENTY-FOUR
  33. TWENTY-FIVE
  34. TWENTY-SIX
  35. TWENTY-SEVEN
  36. TWENTY-EIGHT
  37. TWENTY-NINE
  38. THIRTY
  39. THIRTY-ONE
  40. Somebody Else’s Child
  41. THIRTY-TWO
  42. THIRTY-THREE
  43. THIRTY-FOUR
  44. THIRTY-FIVE
  45. THIRTY-SIX
  46. THIRTY-SEVEN
  47. THIRTY-EIGHT
  48. THIRTY-NINE
  49. FORTY
  50. FORTY-ONE
  51. FORTY-TWO
  52. FORTY-THREE
  53. FORTY-FOUR
  54. FORTY-FIVE
  55. FORTY-SIX
  56. FORTY-SEVEN
  57. FORTY-EIGHT
  58. FORTY-NINE
  59. Sunlight on Water
  60. July
  61. September
  62. Acknowledgements

As Matt continues to berate the Liaison Officer, Claire talks in her head to her newly discovered best friend, God. Please God, she prays, let him not have suffered. And please God, let them give him a blanket, and cover my baby’s face.

It’s a bad day to be out. Jack Ferrers pauses by the yard gate, wind worrying his white hair, and watches the squalls of rain blowing in over Blackmire Ridge. There’s a view from here right down the lane, as far as the eye can follow it, to the beck turn.

No one is there.

He walks slowly up to the home field, his boots squelching in the mud. Birds have already stripped the berries from the scrawny hawthorn trees, sign of a hard winter to come. The ewes are sheltering along the bases of the grey stone walls, and when they hear the latch click on the gate, they raise their heads from the thin grass and run bleating towards him, following him to the tumbledown store at the field’s top end. Jack hauls a sack of sugar-beet feed from the store, and tosses a couple of handfuls to the ewes before filling two buckets. He carries the buckets to the middle of the field, scattering the feed as broadly as he can. The ewes are looking well, ready for the tup in another week or two.

In the farmhouse porch, he pulls off his boots. He was generous this morning with the coal when he banked up the range, and the kitchen is warm. If the boy walks up here from the village, he’ll be frozen with the cold.

One week now. The cake Dora made for Evan is going stale, but it doesn’t feel right to eat it. He boils the kettle and makes a pot of tea. When he carries a cup up to Dora, he takes her a plate of biscuits, leaving Evan’s cake untouched in its tin.

Claire wants to be sick.

The fear of going out there is making her feel faint, but she thinks she can cope with that; she’s been living her life in a blurred light-headedness ever since Evan didn’t come home.

But throwing up live on TV is something else. Maybe she should find the toilets and take care of it now.

She’s left it too late. A girl wearing headphones comes through the door between them and the room where the press conference is scheduled to start. There’s a blast of conversation before the door closes, and a glimpse of rows of seated people.

A lot of people. All waiting for them.

‘Hold my hand,’ murmurs Matt.