‘None of your sodding business,’ he felt like saying – or perhaps did say out loud. He wasn’t sure. Either way, she didn’t speak again, and dropped her hand as though his arm had scalded her fingers. His phone vibrated in his pocket and he sneaked it out to have a look. Someone from a blocked number had left him a message. He’d read it later.

Eileen eventually turned back around. Helen stomped back to her seat and grabbed Frankie back, holding the child so tightly that she started to struggle and cry.

Maybe if I tell her, Patrick thought, she’ll understand why he did it, and forgive him?

I have to tell her. And how can I stop it all coming out in court, at Georgia’s trial?

It was nothing to do with that. It didn’t need to come out. Georgia’s trial, when she was fit enough to stand it, would be on charges of drug dealing and attempted kidnap.

He had to tell Helen.

Sweat broke out on his forehead. They all stood up to sing a hymn – ‘Dear Lord and Father of Mankind’ – they’d had that one at his wedding to Gill, they’d laughed about it afterwards because of the line ‘forgive our foolish ways’, as if their marriage was an act of stupidity for which they requested forgiveness.

Forgive our foolish ways. If he told Helen, then maybe she could forgive Sean’s foolish ways.

He was going to tell Helen.

Then, as the hesitant congregation broke reluctantly into the third verse, the church doors opened and Alice came back in, still in Larry’s arms. He helped her up the side aisle, past Patrick, and she glanced up at him through puffy blank eyes. The look of raw grief on her face spoke more loudly than Helen’s harsh words, and in that second Patrick finally stopped wavering and knew what he was going to do.

He pushed past the red-haired woman and left the church as fast as he could without actually running. Outside, he sat on a bench in the churchyard, his heart pounding and the sweat now running down his cheek like tears. He wiped his face, pulled out his phone, and dialled his voicemail.

It was Gill – or at least he thought it was. She never rang him, and at first he didn’t recognize her voice, it sounded so different. Light and bright and – excited?

‘Pat,’ the message said. ‘Oh Pat. You won’t believe it. They’re releasing me, next week. They assessed me and have decided I’m no longer a danger to myself or anyone else. I’m coming home. We’re going to be a family again . . .’ Her voice became hesitant, slower. ‘. . . if you still want us to be, of course. We can talk about it. But isn’t that fantastic news? I’m coming home!’