She’d put it back, hadn’t she? She found herself wishing that alone would be enough. She could still feel it, her talisman, her little piece of luck, warm in the palm of her hand, soft and yielding. The way it seemed to – fit. That had been the hardest part, giving it up, even after everything went wrong. Even though she knew it was the right thing to do, the only thing to do; even when she’d wanted to keep it close.

She grabbed the edge of the sink, slowly pulling herself to her feet, then straightened up, trying to ignore the dull ache deep in her belly. She’d given up so much already.

Don’t lose your nerve.

She shifted the phone from one hand to the other, flexed her fingers, listened. She could definitely hear footsteps. They were not so much moving across the landing as resonating deep inside the fabric of the building, inside her. The sound was comforting, in its way.

At least she wasn’t alone.

The front door scraped open and – there was no mistaking it this time – someone stood hesitating on the threshold. Upstairs the footsteps stopped.

‘Hello?’

It was him.

She’d made it clear he needed to keep this to himself, their arrangement. And later when they asked, she would say that she had come back to the house to retrieve her phone.

Her heart pounding, she moved silently to the corner of the room, to the fuse box.

Maybe he’ll go away.

She could hear the door rattling softly on its hinges as he pushed it further back. It was dark in the hall, she knew, gloomy.

There was a shuffling as he tried to make up his mind. It wouldn’t be long, a few seconds at most before he stepped inside.

She would say she had come back to the house to retrieve her phone and – and . . .

She had found him there, and no, she’d had no idea – there was no reason for him to be in the house, no reason at all.

And there had been nothing she could do.

An accident, she thought as she reached up, opening the cupboard door.

She had been too late.

‘Hello?’ His voice soft, uncertain.

The floorboards shifting as he stepped inside. The noise upstairs started again, bolder now, insistent.

She placed her hand on the switch, closed her eyes, and pushed.

Chapter 1

1

Nell looked up at the gate; its slender fleurs-de-lys curves at odds with the worn sandstone buildings either side of it. It was new, wrought iron, unpainted, unfinished, the pale pewter grey standing in stark contrast with the rest of the long cobbled street and its mismatched Georgian shop fronts, the low doors and the sagging bow windows.

‘Unbelievable.’ She shook her head.

‘What now?’ said Chris.

‘These yards aren’t private. They’ve no right to block it.’