I had this sudden image of a wall materializing out of the ground, being erected around me, cutting me off from all others.

‘And?’ My belly churned.

‘She seemed pretty sure what Willow had seen. Or rather, what Willow says she’d seen. But Ceci denied it. To the copper.’

‘Denied it?’

‘You sound like a parrot,’ Melissa said drily, and my face flamed. ‘Nella said something else I didn’t get though.’

‘What?’

‘Something odd. That Zach might be trying to – blackmail her or something? Did the Old Bill mention that?’

‘Blackmail?’ I was even more baffled. ‘God, no. But she did mention something about drugs?’

‘Drugs?’ Melissa shook her head vehemently. ‘Not to me, she didn’t. Look, hon, sorry, but I need to get back in there, OK? This is my job.’

‘But this is Zach’s life.’ I felt a coruscating blaze of anger. ‘Surely you get that? And you didn’t answer any of my calls – but you know him, Melissa. You know him really well.’

She gazed at me. Then she took her glasses off and rubbed her face, as if exhausted herself. ‘The thing is… I mean, I’m not being an arse, but seriously, how well do we ever know anyone?’

I stared back; it was as if she was a robot, something automated.

‘What happened to your eye?’ I asked quietly.

‘My eye?’ Quickly she put the glasses back on, but too late. The bruising had been obvious.

‘You sound like a parrot,’ I said.

‘Touché.’ She grinned. ‘Nothing. I walked into a door.’

‘Course you did,’ I said. ‘A door shaped like Rex’s fist, yeah?’

‘Don’t know what you’re on about.’ She was already backing up to the studio. ‘Gotta go. Try not to worry too much, hon.’

I caught the energy: the throb of noise, the sweat in the air as she disappeared back into the class.

I stood for a moment, feeling some sort of relief about Zach.

And some sort of pain. As if I’d just been dumped.

That afternoon, Zach arrived back from school and slammed straight into his bedroom.

I’d been waiting with a leaden stomach: staring into the murky October evening, the promise of nothing whatsoever in the air, the Westway lights flickering in the distance as dark drew in.

I’d always hated the Westway but, since Jonny died, it had become a constant reminder of all that we’d lost.

One day I’d leave here and go to the sea, I told myself, when the kids had grown. One day I wouldn’t have to stare at that highway ever again.

After I got back from seeing Melissa, I’d tried to rewire an old desk lamp Jonny had inherited from Glenmore. I had an idea I’d put it in my son’s room, so he’d have both his father and grandfather’s spirits by his side – but the rewiring had gone so badly, the YouTube video I’d watched only confusing me more, that I’d been unable to staunch hot angry tears at my own ineptitude and my frustration at not always being capable of managing it all.