‘Closure,’ Gabby simply said. Jahmelia had recovered well over the last few weeks, although it had been touch and go in the first few days. But while her physical scars may have been healing, the mental scars might never fade. And she was not the only one. Libby had hidden herself away, with her parents arranging private tutoring as she took the term off school. The community was still recovering from the aftershock of the horror story that had begun on Halloween night.

‘How did you know about the demolition?’ Sarah was dressed casually today, in jeans and a knee-length puffa jacket, watching the press with a measure of distrust.

‘Richie mentioned it. I saw your car, figured you wouldn’t mind me trespassing on your land.’ Gabby and her team had worked hard to get Lewis charged with Angelica’s murder, Libby’s abduction and Sarah and Jahmelia’s attempted murders, among other crimes. After taking advice from a solicitor, Lewis had admitted everything, blaming it on PTSD. It wouldn’t surprise Sarah if he gave a defence of temporary insanity when it went to trial. When she remembered his face at Blackhall Manor, it seemed believable. Christian had been an unwitting accessory who had grown frightened of the man he had once looked up to. Sarah hoped he would be spared prison time. The young man had been through enough.

‘Trespass away,’ Sarah said, as the wind snatched her words. ‘I’m only here to make sure they do it right.’ The house had been left intact with every stick of rotting furniture, every cracked cup and saucer, every moulding piece of clothing inside. She watched the wrecking ball draw up to the abandoned building, as workmen paced in yellow high-vis jackets and hard hats. There was a hum in the air, faint, but she could feel it. A negative vibration that made you want to walk away. On cue, Jahmelia tugged her grandmother’s hand. She felt it too.

‘I wanna go home.’

‘OK, Jay,’ Gabby replied. ‘In a second.’ The clouds rolled in above them, carrying unshed December rain. Christmas was on the horizon, and a small measure of hope was in the air. The jingle of an app tinkled as Jahmelia played on her phone.

‘Is any part of you sad about it?’ Gabby said, her eyes trained on the house. ‘I mean, there must be a reason you’ve left it standing for so long. Are you sure you want it flattened?’

Sarah considered the question, brushing her fringe off her face. Her scar didn’t bother her as much as before. ‘I left it standing because I was scared of it, not because of any loyalty to the house,’ Sarah replied.

‘I didn’t mean loyalty, I meant … that’s where you grew up with your family, wasn’t it?’