It was still dark outside when Vanessa woke up. She lay on her side and tried to listen for any sounds in the old house. Vanessa wasn’t sure what woke her. It wasn’t Ty – the baby monitor by her bed was silent. Wren? Possibly. She should get up and check. She looked at her phone; it was two-thirty in the morning, what would Wren be doing up? Then she heard a noise, small and almost inaudible, but it was there. She was sure she wasn’t imagining it. Quietly she rolled out of bed, gripping her phone, and made her way through the darkness of the now familiar house, touching furniture as she went. She checked on Wren, asleep in his bed, and Ty, flat on his back and snoring slightly, his face slack. She went to the front door and ensured it was locked, then repeated it for the back door. The same. She headed back to the front door in the darkness and moved the curtain a little to peek out. Mark’s car sat outside her house. Quickly she let the curtain drop, fear making her head swim. Vanessa backed up a couple of steps before turning and running into the kitchen where she grabbed the first knife she laid her hands on from the knife block. She backed herself into a corner, knife by her side. Then she remembered the phone in her hand. She wasn’t too proud to ask for help. She rang Billy. It had been ages since she’d heard from Mark, but she’d had a feeling that everything wasn’t OK.

He answered on the third ring.

‘His car is out the front. I can’t tell if he’s in it or not. I’m scared.’ She bit her bottom lip, the knife wavering by her side as she wondered if she could actually use it on another human being.

‘Get somewhere safe, lock yourself in Ty’s room. I’m coming right now.’ She could hear the determination in his voice, the desire to protect her and the boys.

She put the phone in her pocket and, holding the knife out in front of her, ran to Wren’s bedroom. She put a hand over his mouth, and he woke up with a start. He knew the drill. Stay silent. Don’t make a sound. She motioned for him to go next door to Ty’s room. She followed him in and spun around, throwing the bolt in the lock. ‘Billy’s coming,’ she whispered, devastated by the frightened look on her son’s face. Just when he was beginning to live a less scared life, here they were again. His mouth was slack, and his eyes were dark pits in the shadowed room, illuminated by a small night-light.

When someone knocked on the bedroom door, she let out a squeal of fright and Wren grabbed her hand tightly.