Dad looked up at her. He was focusing. That was good, surely?

‘Head hurts,’ he mumbled.

His gaze drifted away from her towards Toby, who was still talking to the ambulance despatcher, and Ellie, who was standing by and looking down at us in horror. Then he turned towards the intruders, the woman and the girl who had come in just before he collapsed, and who were now standing by Toby and Ellie, close enough to touch.

What the hell were they doing here?

The woman had marched in so decisively, as if she was in exactly the right place; the girl less so. She looked as if she didn’t have a clue what she was doing there. And why had the woman been holding her by the hand as they walked along?

It was Paula. Paula and Daisy. It had to be. They even looked familiar. I’d only ever seen them the once that I could remember, in the newspaper photograph that Ingrid had shown us years ago. But that was enough.

The other mother and the other daughter. The phantom family, the one that all of us preferred not to think about. The one that had been living quietly in this town all this time. From our point of view, as good as dead.

Dad managed an approximation of a smile.

When he spoke, his voice was strong and clear and there was no missing what he said.

‘Here you all are. Is it judgement day?’

Twenty-Four

Jenny

The ambulance picked up speed as it made its way through Kettlebridge. How long would it take us? Twenty minutes? Half an hour? At least they’d let me come with him. I was sitting close enough to reach out and touch him; he was upright on the folding stretcher, belted into place, his face contorted with pain.

‘Your turn,’ he managed to say.

My turn. Of course, he’d seen me screaming my head off when I gave birth to Felix all those years ago – I’d never been one for delivering babies in dignified silence.

‘Maybe you shouldn’t try to talk,’ I said, looking up for guidance from the paramedic who was standing over us.

‘Talking’s fine,’ he said. ‘If he gets to the hospital conscious and able to speak for himself, that’ll be a good sign.’

Mark said, ‘Jenny… I have to tell you something. Something I did wrong.’

This was going to be about Paula. I was sure of it. I was here with him, and for all either of us knew he was dying… and he was going to waste his last breath on her? On the woman who’d cheated on him and made his life a misery, taken a house from him, refused to let him see their child… assuming it was his child? I knew he believed it was. But surely, given her track record, there was room for doubt?

I’d recognised her, but only just. She’d looked very different to the sleek, expensively dressed, professional woman I’d seen with Mark at the hospital that time. She’d had her hair hacked short, and she obviously didn’t bother with colouring it – there had been plenty of silver on show. In her faded T-shirt and jeans, she’d looked like someone who had just wandered in off the street – which was pretty much what she was.