She closes her eyes, trying to work out what the hell to do. She can feel Lilah hovering nearby, hoping to change her mind. She ignores her, lays her head back and feels overcome by a sudden wave of tiredness. She’s so damn tired. Needs to wake herself up so she can make sense of things. She doesn’t know the dead woman out at Spurn Point but she still needs to check with her younger brother. She hates coincidences, and the death of a fortune teller, this close to home, at a time when the Teagues and Heldens are united in fear … she needs to talk to somebody who understands. And then she can tell Aector everything. She should have done so from the start, she knows that now, but the thought of him thinking poorly of her; of the pain in his big mournful eyes – the inevitable realization that he had played a part in a blood-laced lie … she had fought to spare him that.

Everything becomes faint. Muddled. Her head feels thick with exhaustion. Her thoughts are a mess of wire wool and damp paper. She wills herself awake, half noticing the sound of a door quietly closing somewhere nearby. She dismisses it, drifting gently into the darkness of sleep.

She jerks awake, teetering in a place between sleep and consciousness. Glances around her, looking for the children. Shouts their names. Shouts louder. A primal, serpentine fear uncoils in her gut. No, she thinks. No, they wouldn’t have …

She shouts their names again. Peers through the open curtains towards the bridge. It’s only a five-minute walk to the play area, which serves as an elaborate entrance to the dense woodland of the country park. She flicks her gaze up to the concrete underbelly of the Humber Bridge. She still can’t decide if it’s beautiful. It’s just there: as much a part of the landscape now as the murky brown water, the strip of shingly beach, and the damp green grass across the silent expanse of Cliff Road.

‘No,’ she says, aloud, and crosses herself, frantic now, kissing her crucifix, blinking back tears. ‘No, please …’

She can feel her heart beating hard. Places her palm upon her chest and realizes her skin is clammy. Shivers, violently. She tells herself she’s panicking about nothing – it’s just the result of feeling so paranoid and jittery. She’s been sleeping badly. Waking from the same damn dream and sitting at the window like a sailor’s widow staring out to sea. Things will be OK again soon, she knows that. And their ‘OK’ is better than most. Aector has been home more these past few months. There have been investigations, he’s worked as hard as he ever has, but he hasn’t had to bleed for the dead since Pharaoh came back from Iceland, all loved up and dribbling about some gorgeous Aector-doppelganger. They’ve talked about different types of future. For the first time since they fell for one another, she has wafted the idea of travel beneath his nose. Has spoken of a world in which he is not a police officer. She doesn’t know what that world would look like, but she cannot help but smile when she imagines an open road and Aector’s hand in hers. The kids are clever enough to miss some school. She left education at twelve and she’s never felt any the worse for it, and Aector’s education could have been completed in a fraction of the time if they’d just left him alone in the library.