Cassie got up and ran out, slamming the door behind her. A thought was forming in my mind, cold and heavy as a bullet. I hadn’t wanted to let it in. There were other options – the transplant list and . . . But four years. Jesus Christ.

The doctor had looked at the wall clock several times. She was coming to the end of her ‘compassionate time with the family’. She had other people to see, other lives to glue back together. ‘So those are the options, I’m afraid. Unless a family friend wants to donate, it’s wait for the transplant list. And they might not match, of course. We’re out of blood relatives, I take it?’

Mike was an only child, his parents too old to help. I would have to call them, tell them to come from France. They hated doing anything last minute, they would be upset and flustered. Our children were the only possibility for donation. Or at least, that was what I’d thought until a few days ago. ‘There is another option,’ I said, leaning forward slightly, lowering my voice. The doctor frowned, as if she understood. ‘A . . . blood relative.’

‘Over eighteen?’

‘Just.’ By three days. Jake had celebrated his coming of age in prison. I hadn’t bought him a present, and even with all this happening that felt wrong. Stupid.

‘And would they give consent?’

‘I . . .’ I thought of everything we’d gone through in the past two weeks. Jake stabbing Mike, the blood pooling on the pavement. The look on Mike’s face as it ran over his fingers. The pictures I’d handed to the police. I need you to know who Karen really is. ‘I really don’t know,’ I said.

Cassie and I drove home, my head throbbing. I was surprised to see a car in the drive, a people-carrier. My mind ran through possibilities – the police with yet more bad news, reporters, bailiffs – before realising it was Jodi and Callum’s car. What were they doing here?

Callum was standing on the drive as we pulled in, a hand raised in greeting. He wore a work suit, and looked tired. I rolled down the window. ‘Cal!’

‘Sorry to barge in. I was just in the area. Thought I’d check on you.’ That was strange – Callum worked in the City, and I couldn’t think of a reason he would be in this part of the country – but I led him in, sending Cassie upstairs with stern instructions to study.

‘Tea? Something stronger?’

‘Tea would hit the spot – got the wheels with me.’

‘How’s Jodi?’

‘Oh, you know. In the home stretch. I think I’m just getting under her feet.’ He barked a laugh, sitting down at the kitchen table. ‘How are you coping, Al?’

‘Oh . . . Not so well.’ I found myself spilling out selected highlights of the story. Cassie suspended (I glossed over why). Our money problems. Mike in hospital, needing a transplant.