Claire’s feet pounded the pavement hard and fast. It was just after two in the morning. Apart from the light from the lampposts, it was pitch black, the rest of the neighbourhood asleep, unaware of how grateful they should be to have the ability to switch off for a night. Claire hadn’t slept properly for several weeks now.

Chris had returned from America leaden with jet lag and irritability. She had been in bed watching the clock on her bedside table. It was just after midnight and she hoped he would come into their room and get into bed beside her. The loneliness had been stifling. There was no one she could talk to about everything that was going on. Even her conversations with Julia had been brief. There was no room in this scenario for business partner and best friend to exist side by side, and the role of partner had won, leaving Claire hollow and alone.

As she’d heard Chris go into the spare room, she’d felt a level of despair so deep she wondered how she would ever get out of this black hole that had encompassed her so ferociously. He’d been sleeping in the spare room ever since, their marriage on hold, each of them unable to cope with anything else. So, whenever her thoughts started tumbling over each other in the early hours of the morning, threatening to overwhelm, she got up, put on her running gear, and slipped quietly outside. It had become a habit and the only way she could collapse into a dreamless sleep for a few hours. She woke up exhausted, but adrenalin charged through her from the minute she woke up.

Chris and Claire had hired the best solicitor Claire knew, Gerald Livingstone. Watching Joshua being arrested had been the worst moment of her life. He’d been held in custody and she’d been waiting at the station the whole time, letting Livingstone do his job. Joshua, who had always been her perfect child, her golden boy, was being held in a stark grey room and being interviewed by the police. He had always looked older than he was but his immaturity was present for any fool to see. It was so blatant; Claire couldn’t understand why the police had even bothered to interview him. Anybody could see that he hadn’t raped anyone. He wouldn’t even know how to!

Would he?

The first interview seemed to go on forever, and Claire knew the same questions would be asked over and over again. How did you meet Rose? How did you know Rose? How long had you known her before you agreed to go back to the party with her? How did you get to the party? Did you travel together? What time did you leave the party? Did you take drugs? What drugs? How much did you take?