He doesn’t respond, just tugs his coat on and zips it up.

‘Darren! We need to decide what we’re going to do.’

He turns back for a moment, despair in his eyes. ‘There’s nothing to decide. If I can’t call the police, I’ll drive to the station instead.’

Catriona’s mind races forward to what will happen if the police get involved. Why can’t Darren understand? She has to stop him. He pulls the front door open, letting in the howl of the wind and the lash of rain, the roar of traffic, and the hiss of wet tyres on tarmac.

He’s halfway out the door already.

‘Darren, wait!’

He stops for a millisecond and she thinks he’s going to relent and come back inside. But their white UPVC front door closes behind him with a hollow click.

‘No, no,’ she moans, crossing the hall and pulling the door open again, spatters of cold rain flying into her face. She can’t leave Gracie on her own. She needs to go to her. To comfort her. But she also can’t let Darren speak to the police. She’s wracked with indecision. Darren is a little way down the path now, a dark blur beneath the wavery street lights. She can see his van parked on the opposite side of the street. He dashes into the road. There’s a blaring car horn and a whine of brakes. A sickening thud.

Catriona’s stomach drops. She stands stock still for a moment. Then, without thinking, she pulls the front door closed behind her and races towards the road, a dull pounding in her gut. The traffic is backed up now and there’s a bright glow of intersecting headlamps. People are staring, pointing. Hands cover mouths, mobile phones are pulled out of raincoat pockets.

Above the dented bonnet of a dark-coloured car is a cracked, blood-smeared windscreen, and on the ground lies a twisted-up body.

Darren.

26

Now

I take a sip of water and realise we’re already halfway through my counselling session. It only feels like I’ve been here five minutes. To be honest, we haven’t really covered any new ground, I’ve simply been exploring my feelings about Holly.

‘So why now?’ Robin gives me a quizzical look. ‘Why did you decide to tell Matt about Holly after all these years?’

An image of Bella flashes up in my mind. ‘I’m not really sure.’

‘Did something happen to make you want to confide in him?’