It was as though a God-like voice had posed the question, so she spoke her answer to the heavens.

‘Let’s get this straight. I have to decide whether or not to keep the offspring of a misogynist bastard? Or a rapist and murderer?’ Her laugh, she realized, was verging on the demonic. ‘Out of the frying pan and into the fire.’

How amused Richard would be by that, for a few seconds at least, until he decided he might progress to murder himself.

The front door was unlocked as usual. Once inside, she began a search for the key. Had Greg ever mentioned where it was? If he had, she had no memory of it.

The voice from the ether was there again to taunt her. Who are you locking the door against anyway? The man you’ve been having sex with, who, now accused of the rape and murder of a teenage girl, is currently locked in a police cell in Inverness?

It was ludicrous. He wouldn’t come back tonight. But what if he did?

Scrabbling through the various kitchen drawers, she finally found what might be the front door key. It was rusty with disuse but she managed eventually to turn it in the lock. The back door was easier, the bolt sliding smoothly across.

She congratulated herself. No one would get in here tonight. She could sleep easy. Ha fucking ha.

Re-entering the kitchen, her eyes were drawn to the whisky bottle. Why on earth should she not have a drink? She had no intention of keeping a baby, if there even was one.

Yet something still stopped her from pouring herself a large glass.

No. She needed to think and for that she required a clear head. Crossing to her laptop, she set about checking the times of the Inverness–London trains.

She could book a place on the Caledonian Sleeper. Leave tomorrow night. But where would she stay in London? Richard was there and undoubtedly searching for her. Plus he had friends in the Met who would help him. If he declared her missing, they would take him at his word. After all, he was a respected defence lawyer.

She’d tried to cover her tracks, of course. Taken out plenty of cash and not used any of her cards to get here. Hiding in Blackrig had worked so far. She laughed at herself for even thinking that.

She’d come to stay in the middle of nowhere with a man she barely knew, who was now accused of rape and murder. How could she have been so stupid?

She thought of Lucy. Dare she tell her the latest episode in her journey from one level of hell to another?

Not tonight, anyway. Fear and nausea had exhausted her. Taking herself through to the bedroom where the signs of her earlier rush to get ready lay scattered about, she stretched out on the bed, still wearing the dress Greg had so admired.