Lying awake in the dark, Grace listened to the rain. She’d always loved the sound of the rain on the window, though it brought her no comfort tonight. She thought about her life, and she wasn’t sure that she recognized the person she’d become. She had always tried to convince herself that despite any damage she might have done, any lives she may have ruined, she was nothing like him. She wasn’t a monster.

Or was she?

Did it matter what her intentions were or what drove her to do the things she did? The outcome was still the same. She made choices based on what was best for Jake, always for him, regardless of who else may have been hurt in the process. And wasn’t that what Nathan did? Isn’t that what he taught her? She knew how to hurt people, even if she didn’t intend to. She’d had a good teacher.

She was pulled from her thoughts by a knock at the front door. Although it was the knock she was expecting, she walked down the stairs slowly, holding onto the wooden bannister as she went. The sense of foreboding making her cautious, acutely aware of every movement she made.

She opened the door to a young policeman.

‘Grace Sumner?’

‘Yes,’ she replied, although it was a struggle to force her mouth to form the word.

‘I’m sorry, Ms Sumner. There’s been an incident.’

She placed her hand to her mouth. ‘What? Is it my son? Is he okay?’

‘Can I come in?’

Once inside he started talking. Grace stood, her arms wrapped protectively around herself, clasping her upper arms tightly, fingernails digging into her skin. He said there had been a fire at the pub. But even worse they had found a body – someone’s charred remains in the flat above. They hadn’t been able to identify the poor sod yet, but there was a car parked outside, and they had checked who it was registered to.

‘Would Mr Conlon have any reason to be there?’

‘There’s no reason, no. But I think he has a key. We used to be married and I think he’s been staying there sometimes. I noticed some whisky going missing …’

The police officer told her they would be doing all they could to confirm the identity of the victim and would keep her informed.

They say that shock affects everyone differently. Grace dropped to the floor, her legs giving way beneath her as though they no longer took orders from her brain, like a puppet whose strings had been snipped mid-stride. And then she wailed. Deep, body-wrenching sobs that shook the breath from her body.