They both ducked under the low beam over the front door. Grady gave her a quick, courteous smile and a pang shot through her. She hid it and showed them into the cosy kitchen, which was cheerful – much cheerier than Laurel felt – even on a winter’s day thanks to the sunny yellow Rea had painted the walls.

Being this close to Mac Cassidy brought Laurel out in a sweat.

The past was refusing to stay where she’d put it. Panic jumped up into her throat and her breathing refused to behave, causing her ears to buzz. For several seconds she was back in that dark night on the playing fields with the ‘teasing’ that had got out of hand. She remembered the smell of cider. Mac and his poisonous girlfriend Amie. Two of Mac’s friends, Ruben and Jonny. The shrieks of laughter. Amie’s high, excited little voice squealing, ‘Hold her!’ Laurel shuddered as she remembered the malicious hands that had carried out the assault.

The next day, when Laurel had still been dazed and shocked, on the school bus Amie had snarled at her, ‘You watch yourself in future, right, or Mac’s going to tell all the other boys you’re a slut.’ She acted as if Laurel had invited what had happened. Had she? She’d been the one to walk alone at night across the playing fields. To reinforce her message, Amie had followed Laurel off the bus and got physical.

Laurel had stopped going out and about in the village after that.

She’d pretended she wasn’t at home when Grady called. Rea had thought they’d had a falling out and that Laurel was heartbroken. It had been convenient to let her think it. Rea had been fighting her own battles – against tough sales targets and back-stabbing colleagues who regularly reduced her to tears. No way would Laurel pile a single extra care on her valiant-but-fragile older sister’s shoulders.

So Laurel had told no one. The shame, and the fear of retribution or that she’d deserved punishment had been too much. Who would have believed her when there were no impartial witnesses? She knew now from Fliss that women frequently didn’t report assaults … and fear of not being believed was the number one cause.

Laurel had attended school only until she’d finished her GCSEs and then left Middledip as the ink on the final exam paper dried.

Swallowing the lump in her throat, she said, ‘Mac and Grady want to speak to us.’

Rea turned with a smile. She’d cleared the table while Laurel had been at the door and switched on the kettle. In her own home or garden, with people she knew, she was fine. It was Laurel who was feeling as if she might have a panic attack.