And it was nothing to do with him.

She picked up her phone again and checked. No messages. She’d have preferred if he’d sent a message saying he was sorry, that he’d leave her alone.

But this silence – she found it unnerving.

13

When Jack came downstairs, Molly looked at his grey complexion and dull, staring eyes and decided it was not the time to bring up the subject of leaving his job again. She’d planted the seed; it might take time for it to germinate.

‘I’m heading to bed,’ she said, reaching to plant a soft kiss on his cheek. ‘Are you going to be long?’

He went to fetch the wine bottle from the fridge. There was a glass left in it, maybe a little more; he took it and a glass to the sofa and sat before answering. ‘I’m going to watch TV and chill for a bit,’ he said, pouring the wine. He didn’t look at her as he picked up the remote, the blare of some music station accompanying Molly as she left the room.

She was glad Freya and Remi weren’t here. Both were intelligent, they’d have picked up on the strange vibes in the house in an instant. She’d have to be careful when she spoke to them on Skype, inject some positivity into her voice. Lie. She smiled grimly. She’d lie.

It was a while before, finally, she shut all her worries away and closed her eyes. Within minutes, she was asleep and despite her concerns, she slept solidly until a noise disturbed her. The doorbell? Opening her eyes, she grabbed her phone and groaned when she saw it was only six. She must have imagined it. Turning on her side, she tried to get back to sleep.

But the doorbell went again, longer this time, the sound pealing through the house. She threw back the duvet and got up, grabbing a robe from the back of the door and pulling it on. There was no sound from the spare bedroom and she felt a twinge of annoyance that it was left to her to open the door to who knew what at such an ungodly hour.

She ran barefooted down the stairs, switched off the alarm and checked the safety chain was in place before unlocking the door. The chain allowed a six-inch gap. She peered through it, blinking in surprise at the two men on the doorstep, both holding identification. Police. Her heart plummeted and she shut the door, her fingers fumbling with the safety chain in her haste to open it. Dear Lord, please, not Freya or Remi. The words going around and around in her head, until at last she pulled the door open.