‘Are you actually out of your mind?’ Kym was definitely closer to her, angry too. The lights flickered again, flaring briefly, and Nell could feel it, the house tensing, then expanding; when the footsteps started again, they would be closer. ‘Look at her, at your child, look what you’ve done to her—’

‘As if you care.’

Kym could smell something, something smouldering, some-thing burning. ‘Of course I do, she’s . . .’ She looked at Evie, smiled sadly. ‘She’s smart and kind and – beautiful – and she deserves better friends than me and she certainly deserves a much better mother than you—’

‘It worked before,’ said Carolyn. ‘You have to hold your nerve, that’s all. A flick of the switch is all it takes. Nell knows what I mean, she knows what she’d do.’

‘No.’

‘It’s all right for Chris, isn’t it? He’s already fathered a child. He doesn’t know what it’s like to want something so very terribly, and to be denied. He’s not the one who is – damaged.’

‘You’re talking nonsense,’ said Nell.

‘I don’t think so,’ said Carolyn. ‘It speaks to me, this house, it always has; it speaks to you too. It knows what we want.’

There was a silence; Nell couldn’t find an answer.

‘What do you mean?’ said Kym. ‘Hold your nerve? What did you do?’

‘I didn’t do anything,’ said Carolyn. ‘I waited; and that’s what we’re going to do now. We’ll sit quietly and wait, and hope that next time round, the child won’t be quite so – defective.’

With a half swallowed sob, Evie grabbed hold of the shoe, before turning to face Carolyn. ‘You don’t mean that,’ she said, ‘I’m not – not—’

As the air crackled with static and the lights burst back into life, Kym moved – launching herself at Carolyn, missing the point of the knife more by luck than judgement. Carolyn fell back, hitting the wall, sliding to the floor and dropping the knife. Nell snatched it up as the kitchen lights flickered then settled again; bathing the room in a sickly yellow glow. ‘Maude,’ she said.

‘Yes,’ said Evie.

‘Maybe,’ Kym said to Nell, nodding at the shoe, which Evie was still clutching, ‘you should deal with that too.’

Chapter 27

27

‘Maude? Maudie, sweetheart?’ Nell shook her gently, then again, more firmly. She dropped to her knees beside the bed and lay the back of her hand against Maude’s forehead. She was running a temperature; there was a rash, vivid patches of red splashed over her pale clammy skin, and scratches too, long raised welts on her wrists, arms, neck.

This was wrong, it couldn’t be – she was supposed to be getting better.

On the mend. That’s what Carolyn had said.