Quickly she told him how Tom, who never came to London, had been in the city the first time she’d been broken into, how he’d turned up at hers shortly afterwards. How the day that Mac had been attacked he’d texted to say he’d just been over there, then that same night her flat was set on fire. She didn’t mention the scene she’d walked in on between him and his mother, the strange feeling she’d always got from him, Emily’s palpable fear at the mention of his name.

Anderson nodded slowly. ‘And why do you think Mr Lawson would want to hurt you?’

‘I don’t know! I don’t understand any of it!’ A nurse came in and they watched her in silence as she cheerfully took Clara’s blood pressure, and wrote something on her clipboard before leaving again. ‘What about Alison? Is she all right?’ Clara asked.

‘She’ll be fine – minor smoke inhalation. But she was very lucky. You both were.’

And with that he got up to leave, trailing distracted promises he’d be in touch. Clara lay back, her eyes on the window by her bed.

Outside, the sun shone brightly through a fine mist of drizzle. She could almost smell the damp grass and flower beds of the hospital grounds below. Spring suffused the world beyond the airless, seasonless confines of this room and she listened to the sounds of the hospital; the bleeps of the machine next to her bed, the brisk clip-clop of a passing stranger’s shoes, the continuous swish and thump of unseen swing-doors.

She felt utterly, horribly alone – who would visit her, who would even know that she was here? Did her parents know? Would they come? She was surprised how desperately she wanted to see them both. She closed her eyes, trying to fight the waves of anxiety, and when she opened them she found Mac standing at her door, his familiar face triggering such a rush of relief in Clara that she had to choke back a sob. He crossed the room in three quick strides and when he reached her took her hand in his. ‘Are you all right?’ he asked. ‘I couldn’t believe it when I heard. I had no idea you were here, Anderson told me and I came straight over. I phoned Zoe, she’s on her way too.’ He stared down at her, and she saw that he was close to tears. ‘I’m so sorry, Clara, I’m so fucking sorry this happened to you.’

‘God, it’s so good to see you,’ she told him. ‘I’m fine, I’m fine, and don’t be silly, this is hardly your fault. But what about you? I’ve been so worried, how’s your head?’

He grimaced and turned to show a large shaved area of scalp, the exposed white skin severed by an ugly scar. ‘Attractive, huh?’