‘Yep.’ Tash had stood and smoothed down her impossibly short skirt. ‘Leah. What you’ve been through, it’s—’

‘Shitty?’

‘Shitty. But—’

‘Honestly, Tash. No more tonight.’ Even then I’d known there would be other times. That she would become somebody I could talk to. A friend.

‘Okay. But remember. However bad things have been – get – it could be worse.’ She’d jerked her head towards Barry flailing his arms in the centre of the dance floor; an octopus being electrocuted.

‘Yeah. At least I’m not Janet,’ I’d said.

Over the past three years I’ve seen Tash frequently out of work. She’s met both Marie and Carly.

‘They don’t have families of their own?’ she had asked beforehand.

‘No. It makes me really sad not be an aunt,’ I’d shared. ‘But I think the stress if Marie or Carly fell pregnant would drive me crazy. The thought of them going into hospital, putting themselves at risk. Not to mention the endless anxiety the thought of trying to protect another life would bring.’

‘It makes you really ill, doesn’t it? The worry?’ She had understood I didn’t experience concern in the way other people might. My fears are crushing. They have broken me before now. If it weren’t for George…

We talk for hours, often at my house, because her flat is poky and cold. She and George get on well, although he generally disappears after dinner to ‘leave you girls to your gossip’. But she hasn’t come round these past few weeks.

I miss her.

I settle myself at my desk, squirting the surface with antibacterial cleaner and wiping it slowly, before cleaning my phone, although nobody uses the handset but me. When I’ve finished I cross the room to toss the cloth into the bin. Through the door I can see out into the reception area. George is still here, huddled by the door with Tash. They are both exchanging whispers, wearing the same harried expressions as though they are facing a mirror, not each other.

Hesitantly I step forward. Oddly it feels like I am intruding even though I know they are talking in hushed tones about me.

‘We can’t tell her. Not yet,’ George says. ‘She’s too fragile.’

‘It’s so hard keeping secrets – I feel like a total bitch,’ Tash says.

‘You’re anything but.’ Briefly George lays his palm on her cheek.

‘If we’re not careful, she’ll guess,’ Tash says.

I hurry back to my desk, feeling sick. Again, PC Godley’s words boom: what the medical professionals recommended for you. Are they planning an intervention in case I relapse? The thought of who they might make me see. Of where they might take me is terrifying.

When my best friend comes and takes her seat opposite me I turn my face to the wall to avoid her questions. So I don’t ask any of my own.

Chapter Nineteen

Carly

Then

It was morning. The girls had been imprisoned for an entire night. Through the window Carly watched as dawn brushed its pink-and-orange fingers over the sky. The world was so beautiful, she had never realized. She wondered whether she would ever get to enjoy it again. Tears leaked from behind her eyes. She didn’t wipe them away, not wanting to disturb the twins, who were still sleeping. Her heart hurt as she gazed at their pale faces. Their small hands, dark purple bruises staining their skin. Carly’s own hands throbbed from banging them against the door. Her head pounded, gums ached where she’d dislodged a tooth. Her knees were sore, the cut on her cheek raw. Every single muscle in her body was as hard as one of Bruno’s bones. The twins had taken up most of the room on the mattress and all night Carly had balanced on the edge, fearful of toppling onto the hard, dirty floor. The blanket wasn’t quite large enough to stretch over them all. Carly had tucked it around the shoulders of the twins and lay shivering, not only with cold but with terror.