On the screen, in the kitchen, Constance opened the cupboards and threw everything on the floor, packets of food, jars—the lot. The kettle went flying, water splashing against the wall. Shards of smashed plates scattered. She climbed on top of the surface and searched above the cupboards, dislodging rolls of kitchen towel, bottles of bleach. The next moment her face filled the screen. There was no light in her eyes, only anguish, her lips pulled back, teeth bared. Then, she jumped off the kitchen counter and opened the fridge, scooping out the contents and throwing food, cartons of drink, everything onto the floor, liquids spilling in pools. After she’d rummaged inside it, she started to drag the fridge toward her, out of its alcove, her small form demonstrating surprising strength.

“What’s she doing?” said Ruby. “She looks like she’s totally out of it.”

“She’s looking for the coat.”

“What coat is it, Gregor?”

“The one she told you about that I’m supposedly hiding from her. The one that doesn’t exist.”

Constance returned to the main room. She tried one of the doors, but it wouldn’t open. Though there was no sound on the film, Ruby could feel the scream of rage and frustration that escaped from her then, her back arching, mouth twisted, fingers like claws, ripping out handfuls of her own hair.

“That’s my room. I have to keep it locked, or she’d tear it apart.”

On the screen, the woman dragged an armchair toward the locked door. She struggled with it for a few seconds. Then she picked it up above her head and threw it straight at the door. As she did so, the outline of the baby bump was clearly visible.

“She’s pregnant in this video?”

“Yes.”

“But Gregor, isn’t this dangerous? For the baby? I mean, the stress and everything.” She thought about how small Leonie was, how she wasn’t yet walking. The way she was alert to everything her mother did.

“This is why I started working from home. I realized I couldn’t leave her for any amount of time. When she was pregnant, she couldn’t take anything to help, no meds, not even herbal things. She was talking about the coat all the time, and when I wasn’t there, this would happen.”

“Why a coat? Is it significant in some way? Seems pretty random.”

“It’s to do with her family, the place she grew up. Did she tell you much about it?”

“She said they were from the Hebrides. That the community has their own island.”

“You could call it a community. But I say it’s a cult.”

“A cult?”