‘The pressure’s good, it keeps me motivated. This is very different to … to what happened before. I’ve had time to understand it, to understand myself too. I’m better prepared. You get to the point where you think you’re totally untouchable and then something catches you out. It’s a reminder that I’m not, no one is. I’m stronger now, Michelle. Stronger and better prepared.’ Joel stood up. ‘Now, if you don’t mind I need to go find out how slime is made and nothing is more important than that right now.’ He kissed his wife, on the lips this time, and when he pulled away he was careful to show off his best smile before heading for the stairs. However, his wife knew him better than anyone and it would only take her a moment to detect the doubt leaking out from behind that smile.

Sharon Evans stopped herself from knocking, opting to rest her knuckle against Jamie’s bedroom door while she held her breath to listen. She couldn’t hear anything. No movement, no music, no games console, not even Zinedine causing trouble. It was dark now too. She’d kept the hall light off so light should be leaking out from under Jamie’s door. But there was nothing. It had been a couple of hours since she’d spoken to him and told him about his dad. She just wanted a response, some clue as to where his head was at. She was getting nothing.

She had been expecting a fight, and dreading it. She thought she knew Jamie well enough to know his reaction. She had expected angry, a refusal to believe it, for him to shout at her for lying and to be furious that she would do that. But it had been nothing like that. He had quietly listened, his face had changed, his skin ran pale. But that was it.

I need to be on my own. That was all he had said. She’d let him go, taking the time to consider why he had reacted like that. The answer when it came seemed so simple: Jamie wasn’t surprised. Maybe he had even been expecting it. As much as she had tried to hide his father’s downward spiral he must have seen right through it. She should have protected him better.

She was still leaning on her son’s door when her phone rang in her back pocket. She moved away through the darkness and down the stairs to answer it.

‘Mrs Evans?’

‘Yes?’ She said.

‘Hello, sorry to bother you. It’s Maggie … from the hospital?’

‘Maggie, is everything OK with Callie?’ Maggie’s title was Nurse Watts, but Sharon had got to know her well enough to call her Maggie. She was posted to the ITU ward at William Harvey – and Callie specifically.