But it was Derek Greene who bothered him, and he could not for the life of him work out why. Then, as they walked into the Portakabin, it became as clear as day what had been niggling at the back of his mind. Now it was too late to do anything about it.

Chapter Seventy-Two

As she sat with her father by her mother’s hospital bed, Celeste breathed a sigh of relief. She was bad, but she would pull through. A heart attack the doctors said and, looking at her mother now, tubes everywhere and her face devoid of colour, Celeste wondered at how vulnerable she suddenly looked. Her mum had always been there for her. She had been a good mum, had loved her and cared for her, made her smile when she was down, gone without so her daughters could have things. Celeste felt the tears once more and choked them back. How had everything gone so wrong?

Her mum and dad blamed Cynthia but, although she was a part of it, in reality it was Jonny who had caused the trouble. As much as she had loved him – and she realised the significance of the past tense – she should have known that he was trouble. He was a violent criminal and she had swallowed that, believing love could conquer all. Well, it couldn’t. He had taken her sister and he had destroyed many lives.

She had gone back to him out of fear, fear of being alone, of having to earn a living, of going back out into the world; the world frightened her, the world was dangerous. Well, so was being in your own home she had learnt. Her house scared her; it was too big, too empty, and she longed for the bedroom of her youth.

She would give anything to be able to go back and do it all again, but that was impossible. She knew that if she had not married Jonny Parker her mother wouldn’t be lying in this bed, and her father wouldn’t be sitting opposite her, terrified of losing the person he had loved his whole life. Poor Gabby wouldn’t be in care, and young James wouldn’t be in a lock-up unit for kids.