‘I think it was last Monday. Yes, it was. Definitely last Monday.’ That was the afternoon Lottie sneaked out and came round here. ‘Shouldn’t you be looking for her?’

‘We don’t need to.’ He traps me in his gaze. ‘There’s been an incident.’

NICK

Thursday, 12 April 2018 Three Weeks Earlier

NICK TAKES OFF HIS SUIT JACKET AND ARRANGES IT carefully over the back of a chair, twitching the corners into place. He loosens his tie and undoes the top button of his shirt. It’s good to be home, to breathe the same air as Grace and Lottie, to feel the warmth of their welcome after a long day, his mind dizzy with figures and conference calls, meetings and briefings. Even after the walk from the station he can feel the tension. But he can’t keep blaming the work itself. It’s more than that; something more insidious, potentially more damaging.

He’s beginning to think, rather late in the day, that the world he’s chosen isn’t for him. It’s not the stress – he’s never minded that – it’s the growing realization that he doesn’t want to be like the people at the top of the business. In particular, he doesn’t want to be like Angus. This is a conversation he will need to have with Grace. Not yet, but soon.

‘God damn it. We’re out of milk,’ Grace says. She closes the fridge door and looks around for her keys.

‘Don’t worry, I’ll go,’ he says.

Grace protests that he’s only just got in, but a walk across the Common with the dog is exactly what he needs. He’ll be less of a bear when he gets back. Toffee leaps up, tail wagging as he trots into the hall, beating him to the coat hooks, where he sits, eyes glued to his lead, tail thumping.

As Nick leaves, a picture lingers in his head: Grace with a loose strand of hair falling across her cheek. She curls it behind her ear. He strolls along their street, enjoying the sinking sun and the pink cherry blossom, then turns left in the direction of the shops. It’s only a ten-minute walk, but he gives in to temptation and the balmy spring evening to cross over on to the Common and allow Toffee a run. The little dog is delightfully grateful, springing up and resting his paws on Nick’s knees, and licking his hand.