The people of Barsall: look at them now. Stuck-up bastards who’d treated Liz and hers like shit, with their nice clothes all dirty and torn. Wild hair and grey faces. No hot-water showers for any of these this morning. No expensive moisturiser for the ladies or muesli for the men. They’d slept little and badly, woken rough and cold and shaking into a new world where they just didn’t matter anymore. Now they looked at her family with fear instead of contempt – fear, and, finally, at long fucking last, respect.

“We’re looking for my daughter,” Liz said. “She stole something of ours. We want it back.” It, not her; she emphasised that for Keira’s benefit: all that mattered was getting back what’d been stolen. There was no coming back from what Jess had done. The girl was nothing now except a traitor to be punished – and who better to carry that sentence out than the one true daughter of Barrowman Farm? But first, the Bible.

“We know she’s come this way,” Liz said. “Saw her footprints in the snow. So where is she?”

Everyone just stared at them, not answering. “Oi,” Keira shouted, “dickheads. You were asked a fucking question. Where is she?”

Someone shifted their weight from one foot to the other, but no one spoke.

Jess sat up. They’d come after her, or rather after the Bible. The Bible, and maybe Joel, to raise themselves or feed to Them. As for Jess herself, Keira’d be straining at the fucking leash to finally get rid, and Mum might let her now. Probably give Joel to Frank and Keira to raise, if they let him live.

That thought made Jess shake with rage. She wriggled out of the blankets, unsteady on her feet.

“Whoa.” Tara stood, reaching out. “Take it easy.”

“It’s them. They’ve come after me.”

No, not her. The Bible. The Bible and Joel.

Outside, she heard Keira’s voice, harsh and grating.

“Same old shit,” Keira said. “None of these’ll give us the steam off their piss. They think they’re better.” Her grin widened, savage and hot. “Don’t worry, Momma Bear. I’ve got this.”