‘Shall we go and look at the car?’ Patrick turned to her questioningly. His face was pinched and white and she was astonished to feel a wave of something which she suspected was quite maternal. For all his attempts at being grown up he was still a little boy in some ways and he was looking to her to be the adult. Great. She wanted someone’s hand to hold too.

She stopped and listened. The air was raw and cold; it smelt of damp pine trees and mud, catching in her throat, clammy against her face.

‘We might as well,’ she said slowly. ‘It will only take a few minutes.’ She was not anxious to set off up the dark track any more than he was.

They made their way across the rough grass to the sandy strip of ground which bordered their garden and the marsh and stood for a moment looking out across the mudflats. ‘The tide is out far enough. I’ll go and look.’ Patrick handed her the gun. ‘Will you wait here?’

She nodded. The gun was surprisingly heavy; she doubted if she could raise it to her shoulder and hold it steady even if she had to, but it felt reassuring in her gloved hands. Watching steadily, she narrowed her eyes against the wind as Patrick, protected by long boots, leaped from tussock to tussock, making his way out onto the mud, splashing every now and then through narrowing streams of water, scrambling up sandy, muddy dunes which rose out of the sea like little islands. He reached the car and she saw him peer in through the windows, circling it cautiously. He groped in his pocket and, producing the key, he unlocked the passenger door, easing himself inside. She held her breath, watching. Behind her the garden was totally silent. She imagined Diana and Greg watching from the kitchen window and the thought comforted her.

Only seconds later Patrick was climbing out of the car again. Carefully he relocked the door – something which struck her incongruously as being immensely funny, and began to make his way back towards her. He was muddy and out of breath when at last he stood beside her again.

‘It was locked. There was no sign of anyone forcing the door and pulling at the wires under the dashboard. Everything was as it should be. No mud; no water; no scratches. In perfect nick.’

‘Should we be pleased?’ Kate asked wryly.

Patrick bit his lip ‘How did it get there, Kate?’

She shrugged. ‘Better not to ask at the moment. Let’s concentrate on getting up to the road.’ Pushing the gun at him she turned away from the sea.

He nodded. ‘There’s a short cut. Let’s take that. I’ll show you.’ He led the way back across the grass.

In the house Greg turned away from the window. Behind him, his father had thrown himself down on the sofa. Within seconds he had fallen asleep. With a compassionate glance at Roger’s exhausted face, Greg hobbled back to the kitchen. ‘They’ve gone. Listen, Ma, what are we going to do about Allie? She is not going to sleep for very long.’

He gave her a careful look under his eyelashes, knowing what he would do – lock her up somewhere safe – and knowing that his mother would not hear of it. ‘We have to accept that she might be dangerous. I know it’s not her fault; it’s not her, for Christ’s sake, but we have to be careful.’

‘What are you suggesting?’ Diana’s voice was hoarse with fatigue.

‘Is there a key in her bedroom door?’

‘You know there is. She’s always locking herself in.’

‘Then it won’t be any hardship for her if we take her up and lock the door when she’s safely tucked up in bed. For our own peace of mind.’

To his surprise she merely shrugged. ‘All right.’

He glanced at his father and then back at her. ‘You and I are going to have to do it, Ma.’

She nodded. For a moment she sat still, visibly wilting, then as he watched she straightened her shoulders and looked up. She gave a brave attempt at a smile. ‘Sorry, Greg. I’m being no help. You’re right, of course.’ She stood up. ‘I’ll get her upstairs.’

‘You can’t do it on your own.’

‘Of course I can -’ Diana stopped short. For a moment neither of them had been looking at Alison but now, as they spoke, they realised that the girl had opened her eyes.

‘Allie?’ It was Greg who spoke first. ‘Are you all right?’

Her eyes were wide, frightened, bewildered. Her own. He glanced at his mother and saw that she had seen too. She went towards the girl and kneeling put her arms round her. ‘Allie, darling. You gave us such a fright.’

‘Did I fall over?’ Alison struggled to sit up, leaning against her mother.

‘You had a dizzy spell, old thing.’ Greg replied. He grinned at her reassuringly. ‘Better now?

‘I… I think so.’

‘Bed, sweetheart.’ Diana’s voice was firm. ‘Then I’ll bring you up something to eat.’

Alison climbed unsteadily to her feet and stood for a moment, rocking slightly, looking around her in a daze. ‘He’s gone, hasn’t he,’ she said at last.

‘Yes, he’s gone.’ Greg shook his head sternly at Diana as she opened her mouth to speak. ‘Nothing to worry about any more little sister.’

Alison smiled. ‘Nothing to worry about,’ she repeated obediently. She still looked dazed.

Diana took her arm. ‘Come on, darling. Upstairs. You’ll catch cold down here.’

Greg watched as they crossed the room, then he sat down, aware again suddenly how badly his foot was throbbing.

It was several minutes before Diana reappeared. ‘She lay down at once and she seems to have gone to sleep again.’

‘Did you lock the door?’

She nodded. ‘Oh, Greg, I hate to do it.’

‘It’s not going to hurt her. And better that than a repeat of – whatever happened before.’

She nodded. Pulling herself together she moved purposefully towards him. ‘Right. Let’s look at that foot.’

‘Shouldn’t we wait for the doctor?’

‘So he can amputate? Come on. Put your leg up on the chair.’ They both knew she had to keep herself busy somehow.

Gently she pulled away the bandages. They studied the swollen foot. ‘I’m going to have to drain that.’ She glanced up at him.

He managed to muster a smile. ‘Can you face it?’

‘Of course. I’ll get the first aid box.’

It was in the study. Switching on the light, she peered round looking for the box she had left on the desk. It did not seem to be there. With an exclamation of annoyance she began to search the room then suddenly she stopped. It was cold in there – extraordinarily cold – and she could smell earth; damp earth. She frowned, fighting a sudden urge to run out of the room. ‘Greg? What did I do with the first aid?’ Her voice was unnaturally loud as she called over her shoulder. The door behind her was closed. Surely she hadn’t closed it? She almost ran towards it, grabbing at the handle. It wouldn’t open. ‘Greg!’ Her voice rose to a scream. ‘Greg!’ There was someone behind her. Someone very close to her. She could smell a strange perfume; sweet, cloying, and the cold was even more intense now, cutting into her fingers as she wrestled with the door latch. ‘Greg!’ Her voice broke into a sob. Whirling round she raised her arms in front of her face to ward off whoever was there.

The room was empty. She stared round, stunned. She had been so certain; she had heard her, felt her, smelt her; a woman. She knew it had been a woman. Sobbing with fear she turned back to wrestle with the latch. The door swung open with ease.

‘Ma? Are you all right?’ She could hear Greg’s voice calling her; not worried, not afraid, just curious. Hadn’t he heard her screams then? Swallowing hard in an attempt to steady herself, she looked back into the room. The first aid box was on the shelf by the door where she would have seen it straightaway if she had looked. Grabbing it she slammed the door behind her and went back into the living room.

‘Couldn’t find it for a minute.’ She gave Greg a bright unnatural smile. ‘Right. What I need is some boiling water and the TCP and I’m ready for you.’ She hunted out a towel from the drawer while the kettle boiled, putting it gently under Greg’s foot, fussing about laying out her equipment on the table.’

He put a hand on her arm. ‘Are you OK?’

She nodded. ‘I’m fine.’

‘It’s going to be all right.’ He gave her a reassuring smile. ‘There’s an explanation for all this; nothing can bring Bill back, but I know it had nothing to do with Allie. Once the police get here they’ll sort it all out, you’ll see.’

She nodded again, concentrating on sorting out her dressings and bandages.

She boiled the razor blade for several minutes, then, washing her hands first with soap and water, then in the TCP she waited for it to cool before picking it up. ‘Don’t look.’

He grinned. ‘If I don’t look I might find you’ve chopped my foot off.’ He gritted his teeth as she laid the blade against the stretched swollen skin. She hardly seemed to apply any pressure at all but suddenly the wound was erupting in a froth of yellow-green pus. He swallowed hard, averting his eyes in spite of himself, wincing as he felt the pressure of her fingers pressing out the last of the poison. She swabbed the wound again and again, holding the cotton wool with a pair of tweezers, then at last it was over. He felt the cool, clean dressing on the fiery skin, and then the bandage.

‘Thanks.’ He spoke through gritted teeth, amazed to find he felt dizzy with pain.

She had noticed. ‘Rest a minute and I’ll make us both a cup of tea.’ She was gathering the swabs and throwing them into the bin, clearing up the mess, wiping down the table. Collecting the kettle, she was half way to the sink when the lights went out.

‘Shit!’ Greg stared round. ‘It must be a fuse.’

‘Don’t you move.’ Diana put a hand on his shoulder as he started to get up. ‘Wait there and I’ll go and look in the cupboard.’

The room was dim without the lights; the windows allowed a grey, dismal daylight to filter in from the garden where, they realised suddenly, it had started snowing again – soft white flakes this time, drifting down out of the heavy sky.