‘Okay.’ She stares out at the car park as Martin starts the engine. At least that way she’d get to exchange a few words with Eve, be part of it somehow. ‘I’ll try to swap for more earlies.’

At home they make the journeys in the lift up and down until there are just a couple more bags left in the car. Charley and Blake beg Martin for one of his made-up bedtime stories. She watches them sprawl on the sofa, cuddling close to their father as he begins to weave a magical tale involving a heroine and dragons. She’ll manage the last things on her own; they look so happy together. She descends in the lift, hurries outside then stops abruptly. The tall guy with the green-soled trainers is standing near the door, a foot against the wall behind him. He turns to look at her, his eyes cold; menace seems to throb in the air between them. There’s a smaller boy by the path and another in the car park; there could be more in the shadows. She walks to the car, heart thumping, staring straight ahead. She takes the bags from the boot, locks it and walks back. The boy by the door has moved; now he’s blocking her way, head lowered, like an animal about to charge. She steps round him, catching a guttural laugh, more of a growl than a laugh.

She reaches the doorway and once inside, runs into the lift, pressing the button to the thirteenth floor. She leans against the side of the lift as it rises; her legs feel separate to her body, as though they might give way. Martin needn’t know. He’d tell the warden, though there’s really nothing to tell; things might get worse. They put the shopping away then Martin goes to bed, but she makes herself reach for her notebook. Her fingers are still trembling so it’s difficult to form the letters at first, but gradually she becomes absorbed into the world on the page. The only sounds she can hear are the familiar ones of her husband snoring, Charley breathing, Blake muttering in his sleep; her family close by, practically within touching distance. The threat outside fades as she writes; gradually it becomes something she might have imagined, almost as if it had happened to somebody else.

Melissa