Andrea had to hide her smile. One of the things they’d spoken about that day in the chemist was how awful migraines could be and how irritating it was when people who simply had everyday, run-of-the-mill headaches claimed they were suffering from a migraine. As she’d got to know Tony, she soon realised that he was one of those people. But she’d let it slide, finding it cute when he massaged his temples and complained about his bad migraine. Maybe it was because it took her back to the day they met when he’d taken such good care of her.

‘That’s no good,’ she said. ‘Well, I’m glad you’re getting back on track today.’ She stood and wandered over to him. ‘Can I see a little of what you’ve written?’

He snapped the laptop shut. ‘You know you can’t,’ he said, but he was smiling as he stood and pulled her towards him.

She hadn’t seen a single word of Don’t Breathe before he announced he’d been accepted by a literary agent. In fact, she hadn’t even known he’d been writing it. And he said he didn’t want to jinx things by changing that with the second book. She wasn’t allowed to read it until he was done.

‘Just one page,’ she said. ‘One paragraph. Come on, the book I’m reading is boring. I want to read another Tony Lewis classic.’

He ran his hands through his thick, dark hair. It was a strong point of contention that as the eldest brother, Tony still had all his hair, while Pete, two years younger, had started going bald in his mid-twenties. There was a family bet around whether Darren would keep his hair.

Tony leaned forward and wrapped his arms around her waist and then reached down to squeeze her butt. ‘I have a better idea,’ he said.

‘I thought you were too busy.’

‘Changed my mind.’

CHRISTMAS EVE

Sixty seconds ticked by before a third car came upon the accident. This time, the car slowed up immediately and crossed over to the left lane before pulling onto the shoulder and coming to a stop, fifty metres beyond the crash site.

The driver jumped out and slammed the door behind him before sprinting back towards the crumpled cars.

‘Shit,’ he said as he looked from one car to the next. ‘Shit, shit, shit.’