After the last assault, when little Tara Caddick had refused to testify against him, Ellie made it clear to Liz Harper that Paul’s safety couldn’t be guaranteed if any more local girls came to grief. That would have brought the big guns out with a vengeance, but by that point she hadn’t given a shit. In her redder dreams she sometimes thought of coming out here with a shotgun and a can of petrol and cleaning house once and for all, but the thought of Tony and Jess had stopped her.

Paul was more careful now, went to the nearest town to gratify his appetites – with prostitutes, Ellie hoped – but her warning him off fitted all too neatly with the timeline of Jess’s pregnancy. She half-hoped Paul gave her trouble today; the thought of applying her baton to his head was all too appealing.

Ellie hoped her bloody thoughts didn’t show in her face. If they did, Jess didn’t notice them, but put the baby in her arms.

“Hush now.” Ellie rocked the child slowly. Her eyes stung; her throat clenched. No. You’re here to do a job. This is a sideshow to the main event. Nothing else. And for Christ’s sake, stay alert. Jess was harmless enough, but the rest of the brood weren’t.

But when she focused on the baby, things became easier. Like riding a bike, it seemed; some old habits were too well-ingrained, even at nearly two decades’ removed, to easily forget. She rocked the child, cooing, and he became quiet. Even smiled. Now he was calmer and his face less red, Ellie could see he was a beautiful baby, with fair hair and blue eyes. He reached out towards her, and Ellie saw there were only two digits on his right hand. Poor little sod.

The baby gurgled happily, and Ellie handed him back to Jess. The girl smiled, blushing. “Thanks.”

“You just need to –”

“Fucksake, you stupid little slag. Fuck’re you doing, letting her in?”

Keira Lucas’ voice was high and harsh and grating at the best of times, and rarely – never, in Ellie’s experience – free from spite and anger. The baby started wailing again, and Jess’s face closed on itself like a fist.

“You!” said Keira. “The fuck do you want?”

Rage had lived with Ellie ever since Richard’s death, like a cruel, ill-tempered animal. She bound and bridled it so it couldn’t attack anyone, was so used to doing so she’d forget its existence for days. But it was a cunning beast, and would break free given half the chance. Everything about Liz Harper’s de facto daughter-in-law made it struggle to escape, and more than once Ellie had been tempted to let it.

“Oi, I asked you a fucking question,” Keira shouted. “The fuck are you doing in our house?”