‘I’m not going to drown myself, Jamie. I just want to lie here in peace for a while.’

‘Okay.’

He went back into the living room and put the ironing board away. The wine was all gone so he opened a can of beer. He thought about what he and Mike had discussed earlier. He felt a shudder of revulsion, a spasm of nausea in his gut. He hated violence, had always abhorred it. But it had to be done. They deserved it. They needed to be punished.

It was important that Kirsty didn’t find out. She hated them too, but he knew she wouldn’t approve. To her, escape was the only solution. But why should they be the ones to flee in terror? Let’s drive Lucy and Chris out. Watch them run.

He listened to her splashing in the bath. He loved her so much, but there were things she didn’t understand: things like masculine pride. There were times when it had to be right to fight. Kirsty had said they had lost already, but he wouldn’t – couldn’t – accept that. They hadn’t lost. Shit, they hadn’t even started fighting back yet. And no, this battle would not be in vain.

He sat down with his beer. As he lifted the can to his mouth he noticed his hand was trembling. He gripped his wrist with his free hand. He reminded himself that he was a man, that he had to be calm. It didn’t help.

He called in sick the next day and drove Kirsty to work. They had both slept deeply, helped by the alcohol, although that hadn’t kept the bad dreams at bay. Jamie woke up and realised he’d had Paul’s coma dream: the birds (he was sure they were birds, not bats) swooping down at him, chasing him, terrifying him. How could a dream be passed from person to person? It made him feel like his grip on reality was even more tenuous than he feared.

‘Are you sure you want to do this?’ he said.

Kirsty nodded. ‘I’m certain.’

‘Alright.’

He kissed her cheek and she got out of the car. She waved and then vanished into the hospital. He had told her he would go straight to the estate agents, and that was what he planned to do. He didn’t want to lie to her, so he drove across the city and parked outside the estate agents where they had first seen the flat advertised. He remembered that day so clearly. The estate agent had told them what a fantastic property this flat was, that it had just come onto the market, that it was sure to be snapped up really quickly.

‘The seller said she hoped it would go to a young couple,’ the agent said. ‘It’s a perfect first home. A great place to build a little nest.’