That was all that was left now. Disgust. She had gone through periods of hating him, fearing him, being furious with him, even pitying him. She’d never liked him or admired him or wanted to be anywhere near him, but she had, once or twice, felt sorry for him.

But not now. Now she felt nothing but disgust. Revulsion. It was the inhumanity he’d displayed, the inability to understand anything about how she must be feeling. He was not a damaged, broken version of a human being. He was not a human being at all.

And he would come and take her son, without any remorse. Then he would keep her here. She would never get out. Never be free. He would see to that. He would rather she died here than leave.

And she couldn’t do it. Not without Max; maybe not even with him. She couldn’t stay here forever.

But there was no way out. None.

Eleven Years Earlier: Sunday Morning, 1 July 2007

1

Martin Cooper glanced at the clock on the dashboard.

‘We’re going to be late,’ he said. ‘It’s ten o’clock already.’

James shrugged. ‘Not that late. Only a few minutes. And we’re nearly there.’

‘But still late.’ They were always late. It drove him mad; it was so easy to be on time. He took a deep breath. He knew his words would go unheard, but if he said them often enough maybe they would sink in. ‘You know, all you have to do if you want to be on time is think for a few seconds and make a plan. So, if you know it’s a ten-minute drive to your tutor’s house then you leave ten minutes before the start time. And if you know it takes twenty minutes to shower and get ready, you start showering and getting ready twenty minutes before that.’

‘I had to have a shower, Dad. Or would you prefer me to go there without taking one?’

‘That’s not what I’m saying. I’m saying you need to take a shower earlier, if you want to be on time.’

‘If I want to be on time.’ James wagged his finger. ‘Which I don’t. I’m quite happy to be late. I don’t exactly want to spend my Sunday morning doing extra maths with a tutor.’

‘Maybe,’ Martin said. ‘But that is how you’re spending your Sunday morning, and it’s disrespectful to turn up late.’

‘I don’t see why I have to.’

‘You know why.’

‘But I don’t care about Maths! I don’t like it.’