He turns and looks at me. The fork’s in his fist with slug-trails of yellow dripping from its prongs. “Your mum really needs this break.” There’s a warning there, his smile shrinking: Don’t stand in our way.

I feel tears building, and hurry out of the room before he sees them. Sitting on my bed, I run my finger up and down a ladder in my tights until Becca appears, wearing my dressing gown, a towel wrapped around her hair. As soon as I see her, the tears burst.

“Kay-Kay.” She sits beside me. The towel slips from her hair and water spatters my arm. I see she’s been dyeing her hair dark purple—the white towel is stained with indigo streaks.

“I’ve got to do something,” I say.

“The police?”

“No, no, you were right about that.”

“I could come back with you, help you explain . . .”

I shake my head, shuddering at the memory of my failure yesterday. Nick’s got us trapped in a corner and I’m too pathetic to haul us out. I hear him whistling again from the kitchen, and the carefree tune makes me want to explode.

Then my gaze snags on something. A small plastic tub on the bedside table. “Your pills.”

Becca glances at the clock. “Oh, you’re right, I’m due some.”

“No . . .” I pause, forming the sentence in my head before I let it leave my mouth. “Couldn’t we give him a couple?”

“What?”

I remember Becca vomiting into the toilet the first night she stayed with us, blaming it on the combination of alcohol and tablets. “We could put some in his food or beer. If he’s sick, they won’t be able to go tonight.”

“Kate—”

“It would buy us some time.”

“But—”

“One dose won’t do any harm, just upset his stomach, right?”

“Probably.” She tilts her head like she’s reassessing me. For better or worse, I’m not sure. “I don’t know. I’m no expert. I just take them.”

“Did you get sick the first time?”

“I think so, a bit.”

“It might shake him up,” I persist. “What with the pills and the beer . . . They might stay at home, at least for tonight. Then we could work out another plan, a proper one.”

Becca’s eyes travel toward the bottle of tablets. “Kate . . . it’s poisoning.” Her lips smack around the word as though she doesn’t know whether she likes the taste of it or not.

“He’ll just think he’s got a bug.” I grab her hand. “If we let him take her away, I’ve got this horrible, horrible feeling she won’t make it back.”

“Jesus, Kate, I’d do anything for you and your mum, you know that. But this feels . . . extreme.”