She didn’t recognize his voice and so she didn’t answer, her knuckles whitening as she gripped the receiver. It felt heavy in her hand, weighing her down. In the half-light of her bedroom she considered hanging up, but in the time it took for that thought to crystallize into a conscious act, the voice at the end of the line had spoken.

‘Hi there, my name’s Russell Parker and I’m calling from the Sun. I just wanted to ask you if—’

She pressed a finger to the hook switch and disconnected the call.

Her mobile, which was on the bedside table next to the landline telephone, vibrated. She stared at it, terrified, before glancing at the home screen with its half a dozen missed calls from a familiar number and snatching it up.

‘Thank God,’ she said, warmth from her mouth fogging the glass.

‘I’m on my way,’ said Eliza. ‘Don’t open the door. Don’t move until I get there, OK?’

Tears threatened, but did not fall. She blinked them away.

‘How long?’

‘Half an hour, if that. Put some clothes in a bag. Be ready to leave.’

Her mouth dried. This was real. It was happening. ‘Thank you.’

Back in Honor’s room, her daughter was sitting on the edge of her bed, the life she had known for twelve years lying in broken pieces about her. Edward was nowhere to be seen.

‘Honor . . .’ Her daughter stared blankly at the carpet. Catherine crouched beside her. ‘Nothing will ever change how much I love you,’ she said. ‘You understand that, sweetheart, don’t you?’

Honor opened her mouth. Closed it again. Tears pooled in her eyes. ‘I want my old mummy back,’ she said.

A pain – sharp and bright – in her chest. Her daughter hadn’t called her that for months.

‘I’m still your mummy,’ she said fiercely. ‘I’ll always be that.’ But the words felt hollow, another lie.

The doorbell rang again, a rude and unrelenting assault, as if someone had glued their fingertip to the buzzer.

‘Ignore it,’ said Catherine, sounding calmer than she felt. Her hands were trembling, her stomach folding in on itself. She picked up Honor’s school bag and handed it to her. ‘Choose a couple of books, and Giraffe, and whatever else you want to take with you.’

Her daughter showed no signs of moving, but Catherine let it go for now. She had no energy for a fight. She needed to conserve everything she had for the long hours ahead.

Alone on the landing, she sagged against the wall, head bowed, her palms resting on the tops of her thighs. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Her breathing steadied.