It was grainy and dark – but it was still visible. It was Beau, and Willow: it was Marcus being shot, in the middle of that wood.

Be in touch soon, take care! the jaunty message ended.

My stomach nearly fell out of my shoes.

Melissa

WEDNESDAY 27 SEPTEMBER

Just before midnight on the Wednesday before the street party, the house phone rang.

Rex was at a teacher’s conference so, free from enforced sport or any dragon-based drama, I’d sprawled across the entire settee with a glass of Chardonnay and my vape to finish the bunting in front of Big Little Lies until, for once, I’d actually fallen into a deep sleep, uninterrupted.

Which made the person on the other end of the phone sobbing so hard even more confusing. Eventually I understood a terrified Ceci was at A & E, waiting for her mum Lynette, who’d had a ‘turn’, as the family coyly referred to them.

Scrambling for my car keys, I thanked the stars I hadn’t drunk much. I hated hospitals, and particularly A & E, at any time. The best and worst of times happened in hospitals. Usually, of course, the latter.

In the over-lit corridor, Cecilia was huddled alone on a bank of orange plastic chairs, trying not to cry. All big DMs and bird-like shins, she reminded me so poignantly of my earlier life – of so many things I’d far rather forget – my skin tingled unpleasantly.

Perhaps, too, the recollections were of more recent times.

‘Hey, honey!’ I forced, my tone jolly, before I went to find news. Lynette was sedated now, a nurse told me, so I scooped Ceci up and took her home.

Thanking God again that Rex was away, I made her cocoa and lay beside her on the frilly bed in her room. I picked up the iPad she’d been on to find she’d been looking at photos Marcus had put on his campaign Insta account of the kids on the camping trip, and, honestly, you’d have thought it had been as wholesome as something on the Disney Channel. I was wide awake long after she finally drifted off, only catching a few hours myself around dawn.

To my absolute horror, Rex had nominated himself to be ‘ringmaster’ of the scheduled street party events – despite some, if not all of us, thinking Marcus would be far better suited to that role. But Marcus, with much graciousness – and to my deep irritation – had backed my husband’s appointment. Rex hardly needed more encouragement to be both a twat and the centre of attention.

Elated, he’d gone so far as to rent a red jacket and top hat; he’d even bought himself knee-high riding boots so shiny they hurt my eyes.

‘You know what we can use these for afterwards, don’t you, babe?’ He’d smiled lasciviously, opening the box. ‘Spice things up a bit!’

I’d just smiled and turned away.

On Thursday night, the last before Rex came back, I polished his boots for the street party, and then went all out to spoil Cecilia.