‘Are you OK? You seem a little … amped. You’re not on anything, are you …?’

‘NO! No … sorry, no. Coffee, that’s all. I’ve not been sleeping. I know I’ve not been dealing with this very well. I know that’s made it worse for you, for Jamie. I know that. But we’re a family and families do better when they go through shit like this together. That’s all I mean.’

‘They should do, sure.’ Sharon pulled the bag that had been held tight to her side off her shoulder, like she had finally decided she was staying. Her expression turned to surprise when a tear dripped from Danny’s eye. He had hastily sniffed to try and stop it.

‘Jesus, Danny! It’s OK! Hey, come on …’ She stepped up to him, her arms out for an embrace. He jerked away with an involuntary hiss when she pressed against the bruising on his lower chest where the butt of a shotgun had kicked back at him a matter of hours earlier.

‘What? What did I do?’ Sharon still had her arms out as her eyes hunted down his body.

‘Nothing! Sorry, I got another ingrowing toenail is all. It catches against my shoe sometimes.’ She stepped back in. This time he was prepared and able to twist to be slightly side-on. There was no pain. His chin rested on her shoulder, her hair smelt familiar, it was all familiar. ‘I miss you,’ he said, his voice breaking.

‘I miss you too. This would put pressure on anyone. It’s just about what you let that pressure do.’ She pushed him away gently but kept hold of his arms like she was sizing him up.

‘Are you eating OK? I swear there’s less to hug!’

The look of concern on her face was genuine and suddenly Danny wanted to tell her everything. About last night, about what he had done, about what was starting to eat him up inside. He had killed a man. But he dismissed it. He couldn’t tell her. Despite what Marcus Olsen was and what he had done, Danny knew his wife, he knew that she would never agree with his actions. Danny wasn’t sure that he did himself anymore.

‘Hotel food. You know, it’s all a bit beige. I pick at it.’ Danny said.

‘You fancy something home-cooked? With Jamie?’ she asked.

Danny nodded and had to seal his mouth tightly shut to hold back another sob. Right now he couldn’t think of anything he wanted to do more. ‘That would be great.’

‘Tonight?’

‘Okay then.’ His words were rushed; he couldn’t leave any room for his emotion to spill out.

‘No beer. Not before, not during,’ Sharon said. The warmth was still present but there was steel to her words.

‘Or after. I’m off that, OK. I don’t need it anymore!’