He repeated her words; they were so familiar – to have and to hold, in sickness and in health, for better or for worse – and yet, now they applied to her and Matt, so strange. She had heard them so many times they had lost their meaning, but as she heard him say them, the meaning became clear.

And then it was her turn. It went in a blur, and suddenly she was saying I do and realized she was smiling and Matt was smiling back at her, and then the vicar asked Guy, their best man, if he had the rings, and he stood up and handed them to her, and the vicar told her to hold out her hand, and Matt was saying With this ring I thee wed, and then she did the same.

‘I now declare you,’ the vicar said, ‘husband and wife.’ She leaned forward and placed a hand on each of their forearms. ‘Congratulations. You may kiss.’

They did, a sort of awkward halfway house between a peck on the lips and a full-on, passionate, open-mouthed kiss, then looked up to see everyone clapping and cheering.

Annabelle glanced at the doors. Still closed. Still no one there to sabotage her wedding.

And now it was too late.

Sunday, 8 March 2020, 5.31 p.m.

Matt

Matt looked at his wife, the dressing gown pulled tight around her. ‘No,’ he said. ‘No.’

It was more a statement of disbelief than a rejection of what they had planned. Now they were here he could not believe this was actually happening. He had thought – somehow – it would be resolved before it came to this.

But now they were here, and it was real.

‘We have to,’ Annabelle said. ‘The kids.’

He squeezed his eyes shut, tears filling them, then reached out to her for one last time. They hugged, and he felt the warmth of her body beneath the dressing gown.

‘No,’ he said. ‘No.’

She pulled away. ‘I love you,’ she said.

‘I love you too.’ He opened the car door, stepped out and unlatched the gate. The rusty hinges creaked as it opened.

She put the car in gear and drove slowly past him. He pressed his hands to the glass, feeling the car slip away from him.

He watched as she drove along a track. When she was about a hundred yards away the brake lights went on and the car stopped.

A figure had stepped into the road. It was tall and wore dark jeans and a dark hoodie.

It raised a finger to its lips, then held out its left hand. It was holding something.

Matt squinted to see what it was.

It was holding handcuffs.

Annabelle

She drove slowly along the road. Once she glanced in the rear-view mirror to see Matt staring, his face blank, his hands slightly raised.

It was too painful, and she did not look again.