There are too many swirling thoughts and unanswered questions in Kat’s head; she can’t second-guess every outcome. She needs to be brave.

She crosses the road and opens Beth’s gate. Then she walks purposefully up to the front door. She lifts her hand, grabs the knocker, and with her heart pounding ferociously, bashes it against the wood. Once, twice, three times.

But nothing happens. No one comes.

She tries again but gets the same result.

Fuck. She knows Beth and Saskia are inside. Why are neither of them answering? As her panic grows, Kat tries to stop the images coming, but it’s too hard. First Becca, lying in the road, rain turning her blood pink. Then Ellie, lying next to her in bed, staring into Kat’s eyes, revealing her deepest secrets. And Mark, lifeless, his threat extinguished.

There are other images too. Not memories, but the work of her imagination. There is Eddie, Ellie’s brother, dying in a pile of sick. And the old homeless man, losing his life with the same addiction. And Beth a witness to them both, doing her best to survive.

Kat flips round and leans against the front door. She senses the flash of a shadow to her right; it’s a figure moving behind the living room window. She looks back at the street – it’s empty – and then drops to her knees. She carefully works her way over to the window and peers over the sill. Someone is sitting on the sofa, but leaning forward, pouring from a bottle with a shaking hand. Her hair is longer than Beth’s, and she’s taller, broader. It’s definitely Saskia. Hunched on the sofa, she seems scared. Of Kat? Have they guessed it’s her at the door? A surge of frustration rushes through her. She just needs to see Beth, to explain, to atone for her mistakes. Why won’t someone let her in?

There’s more movement, and the living room door opens. Kat watches Beth walk inside, carrying a plate of something, mince pies, like the ones Martha wanted to eat for breakfast on Thursday. She proffers it towards Saskia. The Christmas tree lights are twinkling; it all looks so civilised. Best friends, a festive drink and a mince pie to soak up the alcohol. It couldn’t be more perfect.

Except.

Kat watches the silhouette of Saskia take a bite, then stares in horror at her reaction.

June 2003

June 2003

Chapter 53

Chapter 53

Katherine

‘Katherine, wake up.’ A voice slowly infiltrates, and a hand pushes gently on Katherine’s shoulder. ‘I couldn’t sleep.’

A shadow of someone causes Katherine’s heart to race. But the voice is too familiar for it to be more than a temporary flicker of adrenalin. She turns onto her side and assesses the slight figure, dressed in pyjamas, crouching at the side of her bed. ‘Ellie?’