‘Oh, my dear,’ he said, ‘this is tabloid gold. You’re pregnant with the son of your son! I can see the headlines now!’ His laugh was loud, raucous, spittle gathering in the corner of his open mouth.

Jodie clamped her mouth shut. Tabloid gold? She remembered Victor’s seedy bedsit. Money would enable him to rent something far better. How much money would a tabloid pay for the story? The headline would be a tantalising – Woman expecting child, by the child she bore as a child or a pseudo-amused Keeping it in the family. And her nightmare of a life would be destroyed.

And Flynn? His ego was already fragile; he, too, would be ruined.

And the child she was carrying?

What kind of a future would it have?

Victor stopped laughing and stared across the room. His mouth was suddenly dry and he wiped his lips with the tip of his tongue. ‘I’m sorry for laughing. It was a reaction to the shock of the news. And I’m sorry for that crack about tabloid gold. Of course I didn’t mean that.’ He hesitated, seeing her shuttered face, her narrowed eyes. This was probably all wrong but he needed to say it. ‘I’ve said it before and I’ll keep saying it till you believe me. I’ve never stopped loving you. I’ll be here to help you through this.’

There it was; out. He dropped the report on the sofa beside him and waited for her response.

‘Fine,’ she said. ‘But I’d like it if you left now.’

It wasn’t exactly the response Victor had wanted, one that would offer him a glimmer of hope, but it wasn’t a cry of outraged disbelief either so he took some comfort from that. He stood and went to the front door, Jodie following behind. Outside, he turned to say goodbye to her but she’d already shut the door and he heard the rattle of the chain as it was engaged.

It was a first step, he decided. She needed him now, the rest would come easily.

Jodie’s fingers shook as she put the safety chain in place, then she stepped backwards to the kitchen and sank onto a chair.

She didn’t believe anything Victor had said: not his profession of love that had been preceded by that lewd licking of his lips, nor his declaration that he hadn’t meant what he said about tabloid gold. He was a liar, a monster, capable of anything.

Twilight faded to night as she sat and mulled over her dilemma. If she moved, would Victor follow? She could creep away and change her name, but she had a feeling it was a lot harder to do than it looked on TV.

But she had to do something. She had to protect all of them from Victor: herself, the child she carried, the child she’d borne and the man she loved.