Gemma recounts what happened. How I stopped walking and made a strange gargling noise as my body stiffened then started to shudder out of control. I was frothing at the mouth like a crazed animal. She didn’t get to me in time to stop me plummeting to the ground. There’s a gash on the back of my head that’s been stitched. I bit my tongue too and it is badly swollen inside my mouth.

Beside the embarrassment and anger at myself, my immediate thought as I lay there in the hospital bed is one of immense fear. That just when I thought I was on top, I’ve blown it. Perhaps I’ve just taken several steps back in my recovery.

And banging my head? Can my brain take any more blows before it packs in altogether? Have I just lost another slice of Dani Stephens?

Did I ever really get her back?

I can hear Jason talking to me, but I’m not processing the words. Then the room falls deathly silent.

My eyes fall on Jason, then Gemma. They share a look. They both half-smile, awkwardly. They look like they want to be pleased about something but don’t know if they should.

What on earth could they have to be pleased about?

I only realise what the issue is when my arm reflexively lifts up to wipe my face.

To wipe away the tears that are falling.

Tears.

How long is it since I cried? Since the last time I felt this kind of emotion? In fact, the last time I even came close I tried my hardest to shut it away. This time I don’t. I let it come. I let it all out. I sob. I cry. Strangely it feels good to be sad, and the smiles on Jason’s and Gemma’s faces grow.

Perhaps the old me really is somewhere inside still.

Chapter Forty

It was Tuesday morning and having not seen her brother at all for two years after his incarceration, Dani was making her way to Long Lartin prison for the second time in less than a week. The weekend had passed by in something of a blur. Not a drunken or pill induced blur though. After her most recent bust-up with Jason, Dani had stayed strong for three nights in a row, had even tried her best to wean herself off the pills, like Scholz had advised. The blur was more because her mind was so muddled with thoughts as to how – whether – she could get her life properly back on track again, just like she’d had to after her injury, just like she’d had to after that seizure.

There’d been no word from McNair or Baxter on her disciplinary investigation. Numerous times she’d debated whether to call Fletcher to get an update on the murder cases, but had decided against it.