‘I love you, Beth,’ he said, his voice breaking a little as he tried to control his emotions. He didn’t want to frighten her, but something was impelling him now. ‘You do know that, don’t you?’

Within his arms, she mumbled her yes.

‘I’d do anything for you, anything to protect you, to keep you safe. And I’m sorry …’ He almost couldn’t say it. ‘I’m sorry if I didn’t protect you in the past. If things happened that you couldn’t tell me about …’

He felt her stiffen, but still he went on: ‘You should have told me, love. You should have come to me. I know you think that because she was my sister … but if I had known she was hurting you—’

She drew away from him, shocked. The look she gave him – her dark brows drawing together into a frown, her eyes fierce beneath them. He put his hand to her shoulder and said:

‘It’s all right, love. I know.’

She shook her head quickly.

‘Corinne told us,’ he said gently. ‘She was worried.’

Her eyes flared, and she took a step back from him, away from his reach.

‘Beth—’

‘No. No!’ she cried as he came towards her, putting her hands up as if to ward him off.

‘Please, love—’

But she backed away, stumbling against a kitchen stool, sending it clattering to the floor, but she didn’t stop to right it, hurrying out into the hall, the door slamming in her wake, the quick crunch of gravel as she ran.

‘Christ,’ he said to the empty room, and as he reached down to pick up the fallen stool, he felt a rush of blood to the head and with it came the realization that he had failed her again.

On the drive to the hospital, Ross Campbell had prayed. Abi had been taken aback by that, never having considered him to be a religious man, and perhaps he wasn’t. But under the circumstances … He’d said the Hail Mary over and over again, and she had found herself joining in. Her eyes fixed on the road ahead, uttering a prayer she hadn’t said in years, and with that man, of all people! A man whom, barely an hour before, she had hated – hated! A man who had taken advantage of her daughter, abusing his position, betraying their trust in the worst possible way. This man was the father of her grandchild, she realized now. If Eva decided to keep the baby. She heard the fervor with which he prayed, his head bowed, the knuckles of his hands white as he clenched them beneath his chin, and when she’d drawn the car up outside the emergency department, he had reached for her hand and squeezed it hard. She felt the painful press of her rings against the bones of her fingers.

‘My mum knows about the baby,’ Eva said.