Helen paused, then followed her. She stopped outside Lydia’s bedroom door. She could hear more notifications on her phone, buzzing in one after another.

Unusual. Lydia was hardly ever on her phone and never seemed to get texts or messages, but she was especially popular today. Perhaps it was because of her new look. Helen couldn’t help but notice that she had attempted to copy Mills’ flicked eyeliner this morning. However, rather than having the desired effect of maturity, it had made her look strangely young, like a girl playing dress up.

Helen continued up to her bedroom and sat on the bed, thinking about the swim she had voiced a commitment to, still trying to wrap her head around the fact that someone had tried to run her over this morning.

She had no doubt it was intentional now.

Someone wanted her to remember, but Helen wanted to forget.

And the more she thought about it, the more she realised that everything had begun to spiral out of control when Diana walked into their lives.

*

The air in the pool house was thick, condensed, the smell of chlorine comforting. She glided up and down the pool, pulling herself through the water as though she was swimming away from her demons as fast as she could. She could feel them tugging at her heels as she kicked out, pushing them away just enough but knowing they were still behind her, even if she was putting a little distance between them. Her happy place. After half an hour she felt better, more grounded.

She let herself back into the kitchen, a towel wrapped around her hair and her feet in her outdoor slip-ons. She ditched the shoes at the kitchen door and padded quietly across the stone floor and into the hallway. The house was quiet, no sound coming from upstairs.

She went to stand outside Lydia’s closed bedroom door for a moment, listening. She could hear Clive snoring loudly, imagined him stretched out on the bed, his legs twitching as he dreamed about chasing squirrels and pilfering sausages. Helen gently turned the handle and peeked into the room. Lydia was curled up next to Clive, her arm draped over his rotund belly. He opened one eye and looked at Helen before dropping straight back to sleep. Lydia was also asleep and at first Helen thought she looked peaceful, calm. But then she noticed her forehead wrinkled in a tight frown and there were tear tracks drying on her cheeks, smudging the black eyeliner, with a small wet patch of black sadness soiling the purple pillowcase.