‘Says the most competitive man on the planet,’ Sarah laughed at her own response as she plated the food, set the plates down on the table and took her seat.

All the while Michael watched, marvelling that his life had turned out this way. That he had found his perfect woman. And that she had found him.

They had met less than two years ago, in the most extreme of circumstances. They had made a connection then that had only grown stronger. What could have been a crush had become something much more. And so here he was. Thirty-nine years of age, with the twenty-eight-year-old fiancée he adored.

It was more than Michael could have ever hoped for.

‘So what’s today?’ Sarah asked. She dashed some Tabasco sauce onto her meal as she spoke.

‘Wandsworth Prison,’ Michael replied, taking the same hot sauce and adding it to his own petrified bacon. ‘First meet with Simon Kash.’

‘The boy in the murder trial?’

‘Yep.’ Michael drained half of his orange juice. ‘Bad business. What about you? What time are you out?’

‘Not until ten, back early evening. Will you deal with dinner tonight?’

‘Could do. I’m out of the prison by midday, then chambers, but I shouldn’t be late home. I’ll have to check with Anne, though. I think she said she wanted to cook tonight.’

Neither spoke for a few moments while they finished their breakfast, with Michael surreptitiously discarding the worst of the charred edges and Sarah pretending not to notice.

‘Will you make sure Anne’s out of bed before you go?’ Michael asked once both plates were empty, gesturing upwards with his eyes.

‘I’ll head up to her as soon as you’re gone,’ Sarah replied.

‘Thanks. And look, I’m sorry to put that on you. I—’

‘She’s family,’ Sarah interrupted. ‘It’s no trouble.’

Michael reached out and gently gripped Sarah’s hand. She meant what she said. He knew that. It made the answer more welcome.

‘But thanks anyway.’

The moment lasted for a few seconds, only ended by Michael’s glance towards his watch. What it told him made him stand and kiss Sarah on her forehead.

‘Time to go,’ he said as he pushed his chair beneath the kitchen table. ‘Can’t be late for young Mister Kash, now, can I?’

THREE

Kathy Gray counted herself lucky for many things. Her husband of thirty years was one of them. They had enjoyed a long, happy and comfortable marriage. Never rich, they were also never less than comfortable. Together they had done much more than keep the wolf from the door.

Then there were her children. Four of them, all very different from each other. The eldest – John – was a carpenter, like his father. A strong, moral man with a growing family of his own. Next came Eric, another manual worker. No wife. No children. But happy, and with a thriving business. Katie was third. She had married young and had dedicated herself to her five children. Which left Chris. Last but by no means least: the baby who grew up to be the surgeon. His mother’s pride and joy.