She opened her eyes to see identikit art and inoffensive décor. A familiar face. She blinked twice, her vision adjusting, her brain catching up. Not a gunshot after all, but the slam of a hotel room door and her daughter shaking her awake from the darkest of nightmares.

‘Some people are here to see you.’

There were two of them, a man and a woman. They looked like hotel guests. She was wearing a pair of jeans and a mustard-coloured shirt. Diamond studs in her ears and white trainers that had never been on a run. He was tall but slouched. A threat of stubble. A decent haircut. He was wearing jeans too.

But they weren’t hotel guests. They were plain-clothes police officers.

The woman smiled and held out her hand. ‘I’m Detective Sergeant Carla Stroud and this is Detective Constable James Hart.’ The man gave a half-wave while Carla explained who they were. ‘We’re from ERPPU, part of the UKPPS. You’ve been fully briefed on what that is?’

Edward, back from his walk, answered with an air of bewilderment. ‘We’re normal folk. We don’t understand complicated police acronyms.’

Catherine flushed. The room felt unbearably crowded. ‘My probation officer told me you were coming but I can’t remember . . .’ She tailed off, the enormity of their situation striking her with the blunted savagery of a cricket bat.

‘It’s the Eastern Region Protected Persons Unit,’ said Hart. ‘We’re here to make this transition as smooth as possible.’

Catherine and Edward sat side by side on the double bed. The gap between their bodies spoke volumes about the state of their marriage. Two weeks ago, she would have leaned into him, thighs pressed together, fingers entwined, never giving their physical proximity a second thought. Now there was a wall. Invisible but unbreachable.

Honor lay on her pull-out bed, tapping the touchscreen of her mobile phone. When she caught the police officers looking at her, she dropped it guiltily.

‘I know it’s difficult,’ said Stroud, crouching by the girl’s bed. She didn’t lecture or chastise or remonstrate and for that Catherine was grateful. ‘But it’s something we’ll have to talk about soon, OK?’

‘We know you’re familiar with our protection schemes, but things have changed a bit since you left Mayfields,’ said Hart. ‘We still do the same job, though. We’ll give you a new identity, a place to live and some money until you’re back on your feet.’

Catherine stared at them, a million questions in her head, but unable to articulate any of them.

‘Do we get any say in this?’ Edward was sitting ramrod straight, as if altering his posture would signify a weakening of his position, but his face was crumpled from the strain. ‘What about my job? I can’t phone in sick forever.’

‘You get to choose your own name and where you’d like to live, location-wise,’ said Stroud.