The Smart car turned into our road and it proceeded down our road at a responsible speed. And as the car passed us, I saw the pure terror in the man’s eyes. How quickly the word gets around.

Killer!

He looked quickly away, licking lips that went dry at the sight of me.

And I enjoyed his fear.

I relished it. I bloody loved it. I loved what I saw in his eyes.

It made me feel better than I had felt in ages.

TARA

Ginger called. Jolted from a shallow sleep, a wretched dream-filled excuse of a sleep, I scrambled for my phone, sensing the quiet in the house, knowing that Marlon must be still sleeping and Christian must be walking Buddy. Ginger and I had not spoken since the night we went to the hotel. There had been no message from her, no text of remorse for calling the police as I fled for home, no hint of apology for doing exactly what I had begged her not to do, no sorrowful justification for not waiting until I had a chance to talk to Christian, until I could prepare him for what was to come.

And there was none now.

‘The police just came round,’ Ginger said.

I felt my stomach lurch.

‘What did the police want?’

‘Some little copper-haired slip of a girl and some big thug who was pretending to be all matey. The guy gave me his bloody card. DCI Stoner.’

‘But they’ve already got someone, haven’t they? They arrested someone and charged him with murder.’

The soldier, I thought. That poor bastard sleeping on the street with his Staffie.

‘It was more questions,’ Ginger said. ‘Because we’re witnesses, Tara.’

She spoke to me with a kind of brittle impatience that was new to our relationship, as if I did not understand the seriousness of the situation, as if I was always thinking about myself.

‘We found the body,’ she said, as if I might need reminding. ‘And this detective – DCI Stoner – he’s the – what is it? – Senior Investigating Officer. So it’s his murder case and he told me he’s going to talk to you very soon.’

‘But I spoke to the police already. That’s all done, Ginger.’

I had talked to them two miserable nights ago after they took Christian away. A uniformed officer had asked me about what Ginger and I had found on the floor of the Langham, wanting to know why I had left the scene before speaking to the authorities, all prune-lipped with disapproval because I let Ginger handle the formalities. I told him straight with as much authority as I could muster.

My family needed me home.

I was in shock.

My friend was handling it.

Please leave me alone, please.

‘That was only the start,’ Ginger sighed. ‘What did this redheaded copper call it? An initial brief account. The top guy, the big cop – DCI Stoner – said that you and me are what they call significant witnesses. We are going to have to tape interviews, and we are going to have to go to court, Tara, when this comes to trial.’ A pause, but I could hear her breathing. ‘And so we need to get our story straight.’