Daddy Tam pointed at him and, says he, Your fault. All of this is your fault.

The policeman shook his head and tried to say something. But Daddy Tam lit into him then, more anger on him than I’d ever seen before, and Daddy Tam was an angry man. They were all angry men, all three of them. But this was different. This came from deep inside him somewhere, all of his hatred roaring out of him like floodwater.

Daddy George pushed me to the cellar door, saying, Go, go, go.

He opened it, pushed me through, and I near cowped down the stairs. Mummy Joy came up and took a holt of me, brought me down to her bed, and pulled me under the blankets, even though I was soaking them through. She wrapped her arms around my head, covering my ears and my eyes, but I could still hear.

I heard all of it. The screaming. Those wet sounds like meat being butchered. They went on and on long after the screaming was just whimpering and on and on still until we heard him gurgling when they drownt him in the bathtub.

We helt each other in the dark and heard it all.

25: Sara

25: Sara

Forty-five minutes after leaving the care home, Sara walked onto the lane that led to the house. It felt good to be out, to walk so far, giving her heart something to do other than worry. Her thighs and lower back buzzed with the exertion, and she relished the sensation.

The hedgerow stood to her left, the steep bank beyond, and the river down below. She glanced through the gaps as she passed. The river churned murky brown and grey without the evening sun to cast gold on its surface. Sara looked for a girl, still and watchful in the water, but saw no one. Had seen no one. She was sure of that now.

Checking her phone, she saw it had gone three. Damien wouldn’t be home till after five, she thought, so it would be her and Tony in the house. Antonio, to give him his real name. She thought it a beautiful name and if it were hers, she would use it always. Perhaps she would tell him so.

Sara felt heat rise on her neck and cheeks. A foolish reaction to a foolish want. She was a married woman with no use for girlish fancies. But still, she hoped he would be there when she got back. She hoped he would have time for a cup of tea.

“Stop it,” she whispered, words that had become too familiar over the last day or so.