For the next few days, Liv tried writing at home. When she sat at the dining table, Johnny constantly drifted in and out of the kitchen, slamming the fridge door and cupboards. He munched cereal straight from the packet and glugged milk from the bottle, even though Liv told him not to. His answer to everything was, “I’ve only got one arm.”

When she changed the bedcovers, Liv found three sheets of Paperpress headed paper under Jake’s pillow. Items written in abbreviations had rows of scribbled figures set against them. Some of the amounts were alarmingly large but she couldn’t work out what they were for.

Liv scribbled edits onto her own printed manuscript pages as if she were possessed. She wrote while waiting for her bath to run, in bed before she went to sleep and even as she walked to Essie’s apartment. All that existed in her head was crafting Georgia’s last story. It became like an addiction she had to feed, and she was ever more aware of the countdown toward the deadline. She relied on dressing in the blazer, floral dress and striped tie to help her to work.

Georgia pressed her hands flat against the glass box. The water was filling up inside rapidly, reaching her knees and then her thighs. It would take only seconds to reach her neck, then her mouth. She shivered but didn’t thrash her legs and arms, knowing panic wouldn’t solve anything. If she screamed, no one would hear her. She had to breathe calmly, keep focused, and think what to do next. She’d been in many dangerous situations before and had always managed to escape.

When Liv accompanied Johnny for a checkup at the hospital, she felt twitchy at leaving her writing behind for a while. She scrunched her head into her neck as she walked along the corridors with her son. She’d hated the place since childhood, after finding her mum waiting for her with tears streaming down her face.

“I’m so sorry, love. Your dad’s gone,” Carol had said. “They tried their best but couldn’t save him...”

The two of them clung together and Liv could still sense her mum’s heart palpitating against her cheek.

When the doctor pointed to Johnny’s X-ray on a computer screen, Liv was grateful for her thoughts to jump back to the present.

“I’m very pleased with your recovery, young man,” he said. “Your bones have aligned nicely and are healing well.”

Liv felt overcome with relief. “Will he need any surgery?”

The doctor shook his head. “I don’t think so. He should rest his arm up for a few weeks more, and then we’ll book him in for some physiotherapy.”

Johnny moved his fingers a little. “What will they do to me?”