His words made me gasp. My mum had recently been in a car accident. She was going to be released the following day.

He pushed past me and went down the stairs. I chased him into the kitchen, as he went to the cooker and pressed down on the hob. The blue flame flickered to life. “Don’t interfere,” he said, when I raised my hand to stop him. But what was I going to do? “I mean it. I can’t be fucked with this anymore. You prancing around the place, acting like you’re better than me because you’ve done three weeks on a poxy writing course. It’s pathetic.”

The corner of the notebook made a crisping noise as it burned. Scott opened the back door and walked into the garden, the burning book the only point of light, the flames growing and shimmering in Scott’s eyes, catching flashes of his smile; it peeled wider across his face, the more the book burned, and finally he let it drop onto the stones.

I think that was it, right then, the moment our marriage went from uncomfortable and unloving to outright vile. That was the moment I knew I was married to a monster.

7

SCOTT

Scott suppressed a yawn as the children filed out for lunchtime. It had taken several hours to clear up the mess Casey had made.

It was easier to break things than fix them, and really that was just perfect; like their marriage, it could be torn apart in one conversation and never pieced back together again. He’d spent the night thinking of his next move, deciding that visiting Natalie’s parents was the best step he had available.

Her parents still lived in Natalie’s childhood home. If the hangman’s tree from her note referred to something in the local area, they’d know. Scott had googled it on his work computer, but he’d found nothing. If it was some local legend or anything like that, maybe there was no mention of it on the internet. He had to be sure.

The only problem was that meant seeing them for the first time since the funeral. It was no secret they blamed Scott for Natalie's death.

But Scott needed to solve the note. Perhaps the we in Natalie’s final words would lead him to somebody who had answers; perhaps it was even Casey. She and Natalie’s relationship could’ve gone far deeper than he knew. They could’ve been childhood friends. Whatever it was, he wasn’t going to take this without a fight.

Big strong man, a voice whispered, mocking, fading. Such a big tough guy, aren’t you?

The previous night, when Casey had finally returned home, she’d spent a long time walking around the house. Running her finger over every surface. Getting on her hands and knees to look under the sofa. Leaning close to the Aga as though hoping to find a remnant of sauce or a piece of glass from a shattered jar.

“Just about good enough,” she’d declared, striding for the door. “You can have the sofa tonight.”