‘Look, you can come into the station and make a statement if you want to report a crime.’

‘No,’ she said. ‘I’m being silly. It’s probably nothing. I was just panicking, that’s all. I’m sorry I wasted your time.’

‘Do you have CCTV, Miss Sumner?’

‘Yes, but it’s not working at the minute. It hasn’t worked for a few months.’

‘Well, I would recommend you get it fixed.’

‘Yes, I will. Thank you for your time.’

She put the phone down. No doubt the operator thought she was a complete idiot. But she didn’t care. There would be a record of that phone call, and that was all she wanted.

Chapter Sixty-Three

It was almost closing time when Nathan fell into the pub. Grace hadn’t seen him for almost three weeks – not since she’d given him the news about Tommy. He could barely stand, let alone walk and he looked rough. He was still wearing his trademark designer suit, but it was creased and grubby and his hair and beard were unkempt.

He stumbled over to the bar and just about managed to sit on one of the stools. He looked up at her, his eyes bloodshot and heavy. He didn’t say anything. He just stared at her, or through her, like he was waiting for her to say or do something. She couldn’t help but feel a twinge of guilt, because she was responsible for his present misery. Not directly responsible, she knew that. The blame lay with Tommy, and with Nathan of course. But she had used the situation to her own advantage.

She thought to see Nathan in pain would somehow bring her some relief, or some redemption. But it did neither. She could feel nothing but pity for him as he sat there. She only saw the lost little boy he had always tried to silence. She couldn’t deny it had been good not having him around those past few weeks. Not having to put up with his unwanted advances. Not having to pretend that her skin didn’t crawl every time he touched her. And it had given her some space to think, and to plan her next move. She had to remind herself that this was all for Jake. Nathan might have been a drooling shell of a man right now, but it wouldn’t last. It never did. Something, or someone, would snap him out of it soon enough, and he’d be back to himself.

‘Are you okay?’ she asked him.

He shook his head and she saw tears in his eyes. ‘I can’t,’ he mumbled. ‘I don’t understand …’ Then he put his head on the bar and started to sob. His shoulders moving up and down to the same beat of the cheesy eighties song that was playing quietly in the background. People were starting to stare.