It’s growing dark outside now. Shadows creep into the van. I can hear music thumping somewhere in the distance, probably a party somewhere out there in someone’s garden. You expect the countryside to be silent, just the hoots and scuffling of animals. But even out here, you can’t get away from everyone. I need to keep moving, but I can feel London pulling me back, like I’m attached to it by a piece of elastic.

The Fruit Shoot has given her a burst of energy that makes her tremble. She asks me for a piece of paper and a pencil so she can do a drawing. She draws a house with stick people smiling from the windows.

Then she cries for a bit, sucking her thumb. ‘Red Ted,’ she says. ‘I want Red Ted.’

That’s about the hundredth time she’s mentioned her teddy bear. I should have brought the bloody thing with me.

I suppress my irritation, helped because the flies have stopped bashing themselves against the windows, and tell her it’s time for bed. I lift the quilt cover and she slips under, facing away from me, her hair splayed on the pillow.

I slip under the quilt with her, though there’s barely enough room for both of us.

‘Come on,’ I say, and I put my arms around her.

Chapter 6

Chapter 6
Patrick – Day 2

The first thing Patrick wondered when he woke up was why his pillow felt like it was made of wood. He opened his eyes at the same moment he realized he was still in the office, asleep at his desk. A stream of dribble trickled towards the framed photo of his girls. In it, Gill was gazing joyfully at the baby, back when Bonnie still had milk spots and a tuft of blonde hair that was as soft as kitten’s fur. It was probably the last time he remembered seeing Gill truly happy and, like some kind of weird karma, the picture scraped at his heart like fingernails on a blackboard. He kept meaning to put it away, to replace it with a solo portrait of Bonnie now she was almost two. But he couldn’t bear to.

He tilted his head from side to side, listening to his neck crunch. He poked the space bar on his keyboard and the screen sprang to life. If only he could wake up as quickly as the computer. It was 8:07 A.M. He must have fallen asleep at around 5 A.M.

‘The guv wants to see you.’

He turned to see Carmella, looking fresher than a daisy on a dewy spring morning, holding out a Starbucks cup.

‘You’re an angel,’ he said, before burning his top lip on the scalding coffee.