Beth allows herself a moment of hope. Could it work? Could a hard word from a man with a badge and a can of pepper spray stuffed in a desk drawer somewhere be enough to stop this? ‘What if it annoys him?’ she asks. ‘And makes his behaviour worse?’

‘Don’t let him control this, Mrs Packard.’

Beth pauses for a moment, tries to shuffle her thoughts into some kind of order. ‘I don’t understand why he blames me. If he cared so much, why didn’t he help his mate?’

‘He was fast asleep in the back room when we found him, door shut, knocked out by vodka. In fact, that’s probably it. Him feeling responsible, desperate to deflect the blame.’

‘Sounds like you’re justifying his behaviour now,’ Beth murmurs.

‘Definitely not. There’s no excuse for what he’s done to you.’

‘I don’t want …’

‘We just want to make sure you’re safe.’

Beth looks at him. Could she trust him? Her teenage self would despise her for it. Like most people in her neighbourhood, she grew up suspicious of the men in dark blue uniforms, but it was later, when the police showed just how heartless they could be, that she learned to truly hate them. She’s a new person now, and DC Stone seems like a decent enough man, but some memories run too deep.

Like the memory of that newspaper article, the one written without Beth’s permission, just like Saskia’s MyNeighbour post, and how the journalist who wrote it could only have got his information from the police leaking it. She reaches out for the work surface, blinks hard and turns to face the pig sitting in her kitchen. ‘With all due respect,’ she starts, carefully enunciating each word, ‘I’m the victim, and this should be my call. Not yours, not my husband’s. So please listen to me.’ She pauses, swallows the acid in her mouth. ‘I want to withdraw the allegation.’

‘Mrs Packard …’

‘And I don’t want to make a statement.’

‘I know you’re scared, but …’

How dare he be so presumptive? ‘Which means I’m wasting your time,’ she interrupts. ‘And I’ve got a busy day too.’ Even while her insides buck and rear, Beth manages to make eye contact with DC Stone. He holds it for a moment, then shrugs in defeat and pushes off her bar stool.

Chapter 22

Chapter 22

Kat

‘Kat, I’ve got a splitting headache. Is there any chance you could stay a bit later tonight?’ Sally’s voice filters into the back room and Kat puts down her scissors, the final stage in making sure her current ward – Monti the maltipoo – is trimmed to perfection. ‘I’ve got Rolo coming in,’ Sally continues, the volume increasing as she walks in Kat’s direction. ‘And I’m not sure I’ve got the energy for that gigantic furball.’