‘I’m so tired,’ Alice moaned. The few hours’ sleep they’d managed had hardly been refreshing. Plus the situation made her feel exhausted, like all she wanted to do was lie down and retreat into dreams where everything was happy and normal. ‘I’m going to lie down for a bit.’

Now here she was, marinating inside her sleeping bag, forcing her stupid brain not to go back in a loop, to replay the events of the day again. Larry was still asleep, lying on the floor by her feet like a faithful Labrador. Alice wanted to get up, to tell him to wake up too, but she still couldn’t move. Moving would mean facing reality. And she wasn’t ready for that. Not yet.

She could hear a baby crying somewhere close by. The cry sounded familiar and for a delirious moment she thought it was Frankie. Before she could think about it further, exhaustion dragged her back down into sleep.

Chapter 30

Chapter 30
Patrick – Day 5 – Late Afternoon

Helen Philips wordlessly invited Patrick in, turning and drifting towards the living room, head drooping and shoulder blades sticking out. She reminded Patrick immediately of poor Fiona Hartley, who had answered his knock at her front door in exactly the same defeated manner. Not remotely alike physically, it was as if they had morphed into identical grief-stricken twins.

Was it possible for someone to shed pounds in just a few days, he thought, looking at the bones in her skinny back showing through her T-shirt. Yes, of course. He himself had lost a stone and a half in the weeks that followed Gill’s attempted murder of Bonnie, but he pushed down the memory of his hollowed-out reflection the moment it bobbed up. He didn’t have space right now in his head to think about Gill and what her apparent improvement might mean. The problem lurked like an uninvited guest at a party. He would have to deal with it soon, but not today.

Helen perched on the edge of her designer sofa and chewed her fingernails as she looked up at him. Here was a woman who was losing hold. The TV was tuned to Sky News, the volume turned down low.

‘When did you last see Alice?’ Patrick asked, his back to the TV.

She gazed around the room as if the answer might lie behind the pot plant or beneath an armchair. ‘Yesterday evening. We had . . . we had a huge fight, and then Eileen came in and told us about the hostages.’

Their eyes met and Patrick had to look away.

‘When we got back I was so upset I went straight to bed. Sean and Eileen stayed up. They were drinking – I found an empty bottle of gin in the bin this morning.’

A man choosing to sit and get drunk with his mother rather than comfort his wife. Patrick wanted to note that down in his Moleskine but would have to do so later.