Kat takes another look at the address on her phone, just to be sure she’s got the right house. Then she smooths down her dress – another risk she’s trying, like agreeing to go on a date with Jayden, and so far, so good, on both counts – and stares at the house with hopeful, newly grey eyes. It’s modern, red brick and detached. A wide pathway splits the front garden into two squares, then spreads around the perimeter of the house. It’s smooth and flat, and wide enough for a wheelchair, Kat thinks as tears start to burn at the back of her eyes.

Kat sets off up the path, putting one foot in front of the other until she reaches the white front door. Then she presses the bell. As she waits for it to be answered, she thinks back to the first time she stood on Beth’s doorstep. She’d felt proud of herself for getting that far, for finding a way into Beth’s life. But she was scared too. Not of Beth, even though she knew what the woman was capable of. Fate had given her a chance to make things right, to stop protecting a murderer with her silence, but she was scared that Ellie’s prophetic warning would turn out to be true. That she would fail. She almost did too – a week on ICU and an operation to release the pressure on her brain are testament to that – but in the end, she got there. Perhaps she should have had more faith in herself.

The door swings open. ‘Katherine?’

Her face instantly folds inwards and her eyes clamp shut. She puts her hands up to hide her distress. She shouldn’t be behaving like this; it’s rude. She’s a guest; she should be smiling, proffering the small gift she’s brought, politely accepting her host beckoning her inside. And yet, the sobs keep coming.

‘It’s okay, you know.’

‘I’m sorry. So sorry.’

‘You did nothing wrong.’

Kat dares to splay her fingers and look at Becca through the gap they’ve left. She rubs her eyes with the sleeve of her new coat, then her nose.

‘Are you going to stay out there all day?’ Becca asks.

‘It’s just a shock. Seeing you like this.’

‘On two feet, do you mean? Without my wheelchair?’

‘I just thought …’

‘You’re right. I used the wheelchair for years after the accident. The doctors didn’t think I’d walk again, but it turns out miracles do happen, if you complement them with daily physio sessions, that is.’ Becca softens her voice. ‘Please come inside.’