He didn’t know what else to say.

Mechanically, on autopilot, he helped her put all the bags of prawns into the twin sinks, and began to run cold water over them, before laying them out on defrosting trays.

‘I’ll help you peel them when they’re done,’ he said.

Tears were running down her face. ‘Where’s it going to stop?’

‘It has stopped.’

‘Has it? Or has it just started?’

‘What do you mean by that?’

‘It’s not going to stop until we’re all dead, is it?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘You know what I mean. Until everyone here is dead.’

‘Come on, Em, we’ve always dealt with any problems in the past by being strong. Let’s be strong now. Get on with your preparations for tomorrow and shout if you need me to help. Meanwhile, I’ll go back up to my studio. Try to ignore – forget – what’s going on outside, OK?’

She nodded. ‘Wait a sec.’ She tore off a sheet of kitchen towel from a roll, wetted it under the tap, then stepped forward and wiped away remnants of vomit from around his mouth. ‘I love you,’ she said, her voice barely a whisper.

‘I love you too.’

He climbed the stairs back up to his studio, trying to put out of his mind the horror of what had happened, and for the next five hours he worked hard, blanking out the police activity down below. Finally, he stood back from his easel and studied the painting of The Skiver. He was pleased with it. He felt he had captured the essence of the furtive, lazy man, against the backdrop of the hub of activity going on.

Just one final tweak, he felt, stepping forward and picking up his thinnest brush, and dipping the tip into white paint.

76

Thursday 27 December

With her catering facilities in the garage out of action, Emily had transferred all the items she needed for tomorrow’s party into the house. In the kitchen, she was busy putting all the lettuce she had washed, along with the prepared tomatoes and cucumber, into separate plastic tubs, ready to assemble the prawn cocktails the following day. She paused occasionally to take a sip from the very large glass of white wine she had poured herself.

When she had finished, she mixed up the cocktail sauce, adding her own spin on it: paprika, tabasco and horseradish. She already had several trays of prawns that were almost ready to peel now. Her plan was to finish all the prawns tonight and store them in the fridge, ready to transport tomorrow.

Next, she would put the first of the bowls of lamb tagine, which she had previously prepared, into the double oven, on low heat, to slow cook overnight. Tomorrow, when – hopefully – Louise would be well enough to help her, they would prepare and pre-cook the vegetables, as well as the six salmon en croûtes that had been ordered for pescatarians, and two vegan dishes. The canapés, chosen by their client, were already prepared and at Louise’s.