And he was worried that whatever it was, was coming to a head. Maybe Tom had confronted her with the photo and they’d had a huge row. Maybe he had stormed out and was out there now, unwilling to come back. Maybe he’d left her for good. That would certainly explain the strained atmosphere she gave off.

He glanced down at the table. Tom’s phone was lying on it, face down.

He would have taken it if he had stormed out or gone for a walk.

The kitchen door opened and Alice came out holding a mug of tea. She put it on the table and sat opposite him.

‘He forgot his phone,’ she said. ‘No surprise. There’s no signal anyway. And I think he enjoys the quiet time with Jo.’

‘Does she like the walks?’

Alice shrugged. ‘Seems to. She’s too young to know where she is.’

‘It goes in, though. One way or another.’

‘So people say.’

‘Did he say when he’d be back?’

‘I don’t think it’ll be too long.’

There was a cry from upstairs. They both glanced up at the open window.

The cry came again, then turned into a wail.

‘I thought you said he took Jo with him?’ Roland said.

‘Oh,’ Alice said. ‘I must have got mixed up. She was probably asleep and he didn’t want to wake her.’

The tension between them rose. He caught her eye and held her gaze.

‘Alice,’ he said. ‘There’s something we need to talk—’

Her left hand snaked out and grabbed his wrist. She slammed it down onto the tabletop, palm upwards, then jerked him forwards. Her right hand curled into a fist and she slammed it into his temple.

His head swam and stars danced in front of his eyes. He blinked to clear them, and then he saw what she had done.

‘No,’ he said. ‘No. Not that.’

Alice

It was surprisingly easy, but then his body was used to it.

After she hit him she reached into her pocket for the things she had taken from her day pack. Two syringes, both full of heroin.

This was how it would end for the Sark brothers: Roland, having fallen off the wagon, came to see his brother and, while there, overdosed in spectacular fashion. While Alice tried unsuccessfully to revive him, Tom – already on the ragged edge of sanity – finally collapsed and, in a grotesque imitation of his brother, took his own and his daughter’s life.

No coincidence here, but one all too predictable death – she’d read once that a lot of overdoses happened when a junkie fell off the wagon and couldn’t hold themselves back – and one caused by it.

A tragedy she would never recover from. A poor, devoted wife and mother grieving at the savage loss of her husband and child.