Grant sighed.

‘Well, off you go then,’ she said, giving him a cheeky smile. ‘I’ll cook us some dinner.’

Grant was about to head off when Mary turned towards him.

‘What is it?’ he asked.

‘What’s that noise?’

‘What noise?’

‘Shouting. Outside.’

Grant stopped and listened. Sure enough, there was the faint but nonetheless clear sound of quite frenzied arguing. A man and a woman. Grant and Mary moved out of the kitchen and through to the dining room to look out the front.

Across the street, on the drive of the Francis’s house and in the glare of their security lights, Ed and Julie were in the midst of a raging slanging match. Francis’s face was creased in anger. Julie, her back to Grant, was waving her arms around in the air frantically as she gesticulated at her husband.

‘What the…?’

‘That poor woman,’ Mary said.

Julie spun around and, walking on one heel, hobbled away from Francis. She opened the door to the Range Rover and jumped in. Francis moved forwards to try to stop her but a second later the reverse light came on and the car swung viciously backwards in an arc, into the road.

‘She’s pissed as a fart,’ Grant said. ‘She’ll crash that damn thing.’

Tyres screeched and the Range Rover sped forwards. Francis, holding Julie’s other stiletto in his hand, rushed after it and flung the shoe at the escaping car. It harmlessly smacked against the back window. Francis didn’t give chase, just stood there huffing at the edge of his drive as his wife tore away in his pride and joy.

After a few seconds, his chest still heaving, Francis turned and glared over at the Grants’ house. His eyes moved to the dining room window where Grant and Mary were gawking.

Mary gasped and stepped back, pulling Grant with her, but neither of them could fully tear themselves away and they stood at what they hoped was a safe distance.

‘Can he see us?’ Mary asked.

Grant didn’t know, and he didn’t answer, just carried on staring over at his raging neighbour. After a few seconds more, Francis turned, stormed back to his house and slammed the door shut behind him.

‘I don’t think he’s getting that foot massage today,’ Grant said, not trying to hide his glee. At least now he wasn’t the only guy on the street whose dirty laundry had been aired in public.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Day 146

McNair is sitting by my hospital bed. I’m pissed off that she’s the one who’s come to see me. Not someone from the CPS, not one of the detectives who’s been involved in the case, but my own boss. As though the familiar face will make a difference to what I can remember.

‘Dani, do you understand what I’m saying to you?’ McNair asks.