The skiver, wearing his ear defenders, wouldn’t hear it.

Jason stared, transfixed, wanting to shout out a warning, but he was far too far away. He emitted only a quiet, lame croak.

No!

He watched the two halves of the clamshell bucket of the crane open. Swinging from its cables. Dropping jerkily. Hovering over the top of the stack.

Two huge jaws.

Over the man.

Then, like a bird of prey, it dropped, pouncing, momentarily blocking him from Jason’s view.

The two halves closed together, scooping up rubble, then rose sharply again.

With something dangling from them.

Oh Jesus, no.

It was the skiver, being hoisted in the air, his head invisible inside the jaws. All Jason could see of him was from the neck down, body twitching, his legs kicking, work boots flailing.

Abruptly the grab bucket stopped with a jerk in mid-air, and opened.

The skiver’s torso plummeted like a rag doll, twenty feet to the ground, toppled sideways and lay still. Blood spewed from his neck.

A second later, something white fell from the bucket, bounced on the ground near the motionless body and rolled. As it did so, something tipped out of it.

Jason stared in utter horror as he realized what it was.

Oh Jesus.

He turned, his stomach heaving, and threw up on the studio floor.

40

Monday 17 December

Downstairs in the kitchen, Emily glanced at the large round clock on the kitchen wall. It was a replica antique French railway clock, with Roman numerals. 1.15 p.m. Louise had left because she had heard there was a special offer on large prawns at a wholesaler in Worthing, and the saving would be a good boost to the somewhat meagre profit they would be making.

She opened the fridge door and was about to take out a couple of pies for lunch for herself and Jason, when he came in, looking very pale.

‘Darling,’ she said, alarmed. ‘Are you OK? What is it?’

‘I – I need a bucket and a mop. Where can I find them?’

‘They’re in the utility room – why? What do you need them for?’

Hesitating, he said, ‘I think I just saw someone die – killed.’

She followed him up to his studio, carrying a bucket of warm soapy water and several cloths.

‘Oh God,’ he said, entering and ignoring his puke on the floor. ‘Oh Jesus, it was horrible.’ He stared across at the construction site, his face pale.

‘What?’ Emily walked over and stood beside him. She saw an orange crane, and a swarm of workers in hard hats all around it.

‘I just – just—’ He began sobbing. ‘Oh God.’

Alarmed, she put an arm around him. ‘What’s happened?’

‘I – I can’t believe what I just saw.’

‘What? What, darling? What exactly did you just see?’

‘It was horrible. Jesus, it was horrible.’

‘What, please tell me.’

‘An accident – a terrible—’ He shook his head. ‘Oh God.’

‘What’s happened?’

‘I. Just. Saw. A. Man. Killed. Killed. I saw him killed.’