He took a pen from his shirt pocket and went to the title page. He scribbled his signature in big letters and made a brief dedication in her name. When he handed the book back Jessica beamed from ear to ear.

‘Thank you so much!’ she said. ‘My mum will be so jealous. She knew you, back in the day.’

‘Really? Where from?’

‘From Durham uni, when you were first studying. Before… you know.’

‘Wow. A long time ago then.’

‘Her name was Elizabeth Fonte then.’

The name meant nothing to Grant so he just smiled and nodded.

‘Say hi to her from me,’ he said.

Grant checked the clock on the wall. A nervous reaction. He didn’t have anything to get to but he was now feeling increasingly uncomfortable by her fan-girling. The last thing he needed in life right now was the affection of a teenage girl and all the risks that could bring.

Jessica looked over her shoulder at her friend, who gave a clear ‘come on’ look.

‘I really appreciate it,’ Jessica said, clutching the signed book to her chest. ‘And I was wondering… I’d like to come and see you in your office when you’re free.’

Grant frowned. ‘How do you mean?’

‘I had an idea for a thesis subject that I wanted to talk to you about.’

‘Thesis? You don’t need to be thinking about that just yet.’

Jessica looked thrown by that.

‘But I do admire your eagerness. Come over after noon today, if you like. Otherwise it would have to be tomorrow.’

‘No, that’s great! I’ll see you then.’

Grant watched Jessica turn and tootle off up the stairs and out of the lecture theatre with her stroppy friend.

Private tutoring to a keen nineteen-year-old? What could possibly go wrong?

Chapter Four

Day 71

The snarl on his face is pure rage. Animalistic and sinister. He bares his teeth like a rabid dog. This is a man I’ve known my whole life, but I don’t recognise him at all right now. And I’m terrified. Terrified of what he’s going to do. Terrified of what he’s already done. Terrified that I shared a womb with this person. My twin brother, Ben. Terrified that I grew up with him, that I’ve known him for more than thirty years and have never understood or suspected what lay beneath.

The phone is in my hand. I need to call for help, but I’m too scared to move. Not just scared for myself but for Gemma, upstairs. For the kids. At least they aren’t here tonight.

I can’t even look at the phone properly to make the call as I can’t take my eyes off him.