“Emma.” He lifts the curtain of hair that’s fallen in front of my eyes and leans forward so his face is only a couple of centimetres from mine. “I believe in you. Why don’t you?”

I don’t know whether it’s loneliness, desire or his relentless questioning but, instead of answering, I put my hands on either side of his face, and I kiss him. He kisses me back – hard – his hands in my hair. He pulls at my clothes, grabbing the straps of my vest top and yanking them down over my arms so they’re pinned to my sides then he presses his lips to my neck, my collarbones, my cleavage. I wriggle out of my vest, pushing it down to my waist, and clutch him to me so we tumble to the floor, knocking over a pile of prayer mats that scatter beneath us.

I grab at Isaac’s T-shirt, forcing it up towards his throat before he knocks my hands away and yanks it down. “It stays on.”

My bra is the next to go. Then Isaac’s shorts. My shorts. My knickers. We are partially naked and sweaty, grabbing at each other, grappling, kissing, biting. For the first time since we got here, my head is empty. Isaac fucks me, over and over again, one hand twisted in my hair, the other on my collarbone. His shoulder-length hair falls over his face but he keeps his eyes locked on mine the whole time. He doesn’t once look away or close his eyes.

“It’ll be okay,” he breathes as he collapses on top of me. “I promise.”

Chapter 31

Chapter 31

Present Day

“Who sent you this?” Will hands the phone back to me, the message still on the screen:

Only the good die young. That’ll explain why you’re still alive, then.

I navigate out of the text messages. “I don’t know.”

“Surely you must have an idea.” He perches on the edge of the bed.

A fly buzzes at the window, a trolley is wheeled past the door and, somewhere further down the ward, a woman groans as a nurse takes a blood sample.

“Jane.” Will touches me on the arm. “You need to trust me. Tell me what’s going on.”

“I can’t, I …”

“You don’t trust me.” His jaw clenches and his hand falls away from my body.

“I do, I want to. But …”

“But what? Jane, I want to help you but I can’t if you won’t talk to me. For God’s sake.” He presses his hands to his face and takes several deep breaths.

“You don’t have to stay.”

I regret saying the words even as they leave my mouth.

“Okay.” He stands up, wearily, and turns to go. “If that’s what you want. If I hurry, I’ll catch Sheila in the car park. She’ll drop you home.”