Eventually she stood up and went to make herself a cup of tea. As the kettle boiled, an image of Alan and Angie kissing appeared without warning in her head and she felt another wave of anger. She picked up Alan’s favourite mug, the one that declared he was the World’s Best Husband, and hurled it across the kitchen. It hit the wall and fell to the floor, smashing into pieces.

The doorbell ringing made her jump. What if it’s Angie? She didn’t want to see her but she knew it had to happen eventually. She couldn’t remain prisoner in her own home forever. But was she ready for it yet? And what if it wasn’t Angie after all? It could be Jack, wanting to talk, or even the postman just delivering a parcel. She considered ignoring it but then the bell rang again and curiosity got the better of her. Taking a deep breath and steeling herself, she opened it and looked at the person on the other side in surprise.

It was Indie.

18

It had all gone according to plan. Mission accomplished. Yet Indie hadn’t felt the euphoria that she had been expecting. Actually, she’d felt pretty rubbish. She had looked at the devastation on her dad’s face and the horror on Sophie’s and realised that she was responsible for that. The hurt and resentment that she had been harbouring for weeks, that had manifested itself into an intense desire for retribution, seemed to be deserting her. She felt afraid.

Still her mum deserved it, she persuaded herself. She had got what was coming to her. Alan too. But it wasn’t enough anymore, it wasn’t enough to justify the fact that she had just thrown a massive hand grenade into the middle of this situation. The fall out was going to be huge. When she had been plotting and planning, she hadn’t cared whether her mum would be angry with her but she did care now. Now that she actually had to face the music. And what if her parents divorced now because of it? Because of her? What if her dad never spoke to her again?

She curled up on her bed in the dark and hoped that someone would come to her – her dad, Benji, even her mum, so that she didn’t have to be alone. She heard hushed voices downstairs. But no one came. She finally cried herself to sleep in the early hours but she was awake again at dawn. Her first thought was that something terrible had happened but she couldn’t quite put her finger on what it was. And then it all came back to her and she felt horror, guilt and fear all wrapped into one. She thought about running away but she didn’t know where to go and she didn’t have any money. In the end, she lay under her duvet and waited.

Finally at 8am there was a gentle knock on the door and Jack opened it, holding a mug of hot chocolate, which he gently placed on her bedside table. As he perched on the edge of her bed and looked down at her, she pretended that she had just woken up. Rubbing her eyes, she sat up and took the hot drink but refused to look at him. She desperately wanted to find out what had happened last night, but she couldn’t bring herself to ask, so she scowled instead.