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Anna.’ She looked up to see Nathan standing in the doorway, Florence behind him.

      ‘He guessed you’d come here,’ she said apologetically. ‘He knows.’

      ‘How?’ Anna asked Nathan.

      He sighed. ‘Sources.’

      ‘So my name will be out soon?’

      ‘Eventually. I wish you’d just told me the truth instead of calling in sick.’

      ‘I’ll leave you to it,’ Florence said softly, putting her hand on Nathan’s shoulder. ‘Good to see you again, Nathan.’

      When Florence walked out, Nathan peered towards Joni. ‘She’s okay?’

      ‘Yes, physically, anyway,’ Anna said, trying to keep her voice strong. ‘But she witnessed what happened which can’t be good for her…’ Her voice trailed off and she turned away, trying desperately not to cry.

       Game face.

      Nathan walked across the room and pulled her into a hug. ‘I’m so sorry, Anna. Of all the people for this to happen to.’

      She looked up at him. ‘I killed a boy, Nathan.’

      ‘You had to and I’m not the only one who thinks it,’ he said fiercely. ‘The Coast to Coast “Your Say” lines were jammed this morning with—’

      She pulled away from him. ‘You did a phone-in on it?’

      ‘Before we knew it was you, Anna! Don’t tell me you wouldn’t have?’

      She sighed. ‘I suppose not.’

      ‘Everyone’s on your side, bar the usual devil’s advocate, of course. You have nothing to worry about.’

      ‘I still killed him.’

      Nathan shook his head. ‘Self-defence. You weren’t charged, were you? It’ll be fine. You’re a bloody hero.’

      ‘It doesn’t feel like it.’ She sank onto a sofa, raking her hands through her long hair. She’d washed it, over and over, when she’d got in the night before. But she could swear she could still feel and smell the boy’s blood in it.

      Nathan sat next to her and they both watched the TV. The newsreader was now discussing whether it was right that Anna – or the ‘unnamed mother’ as they referred to her – hadn’t been charged. It was clear the newsreader thought it was right.

      And then there it was again, that photo of Elliot stretched across the news studio behind them.

      ‘I don’t understand why he did it,’ Anna said.

      ‘We have our fair share of nutters and stalkers.’

      ‘No, he wasn’t a stalker. He seemed to recognise me but he was surprised to see me. If he’d been stalking me, surely he’d know I’d be there? I do that walk every evening.’ She thought of the look in Elliot’s eyes before he ran at her. ‘He seemed scared of me too.’

      ‘Scared? Why on earth would he be scared of you?’

      ‘I don’t know,’ Anna said with a sigh. ‘But something’s not adding up, I can feel it.’

      ‘Feel?’ Nathan said with a raised eyebrow. ‘So your gut’s telling you that, is it? We’ll make an investigative reporter out of you yet, Anna Graves. Just like your father.’

      Anna shook her head vehemently. ‘I’ll never be an investigative reporter, not after what it did to him. Does everyone at work know?’ Anna thought of Heather’s smug face. I always knew there was something a bit odd about Anna Graves, she’d probably say.

      ‘Just a couple of the senior reporters,’ Nathan said. ‘I’ve bribed them to keep quiet for now, amazing the blackmail material you get at Christmas dos.’

      He smiled but Anna didn’t smile back. Instead, she scratched at her arms. What would it be like when her name got out?

      Another photo of Elliot appeared again on TV, this time with his parents at a wedding, according to the caption. The mother’s black greasy hair piled on top of her head, a pink dress hanging off her thin frame. The father looked angry, his russet hair long and messy, eyes hard as he looked into the camera. Elliot stood between them, his hands thrust into the pockets of black trousers that were too short for him, dark hair smartly combed. He looked sullen, eyes away from the camera.

      Anna looked at his mother again. Her life was etched into the lines in her face, the dark circles under her eyes. She’d be crippled with grief right now.

      But then so might Anna if she hadn’t protected herself and Joni like she did.

      She put her face in her hands and let the tears come, praying she’d wake up from this horrible nightmare.

      Anna walked down the path towards her mother’s bungalow. The grass was overgrown, the roses Florence had so carefully planted the month before already neglected and dying. Anna remembered how she’d felt the first time she saw the bungalow, two months after her father had died, one in a row of many. It had seemed so tiny, so claustrophobic compared to the large apartment that had been their family home. It was too far away from the cobbled touristy centre of the village where their apartment had been…and where Anna had lived with Guy until recently.

      ‘I think Daddy would have liked this,’ she remembered saying to her mother, lying to make her feel better. The truth was, the bungalow was too far away from the sea for Anna’s liking. Still just a ten-minute walk, but that was enough to make Anna feel land-locked and trapped.

      ‘Rubbish,’ her brother Leo had hissed. ‘He hated the bungalows here, said they smelled of decay, didn’t he, Mother?’

      But their mother had just stared into the distance, eyes blank, already lost to the anti-anxiety pills her doctor had prescribed her.

      ‘The curtains are closed,’ Florence said now as she peered at the bungalow.

      Anna sighed. That was usually a sign her mother was going through one of her more reclusive periods. The last time Anna had seen her was two weeks ago. Her mother had been okay then; even sat on the floor and played with Joni. Anna had tried to enjoy the brief respite from her usual indifference. But she couldn’t help but think it meant her mother was due a down episode. That’s the way it was with her mother, a rollercoaster of ups and downs since she’d lost her husband.

      Anna walked up the concrete path, Joni sucking her thumb as she looked around her. She always seemed nervous when they visited her ‘nanny’s’, sensing Anna’s nerves no doubt. Florence put a protective arm around them both.

      As they approached the bungalow, the curtains were flung open and Anna’s brother, Leo, appeared at the window, his dark hair slicked back, his brown suit too small. His nostrils flared as he saw his sister and gran approaching. One less opportunity to gloat to Anna about being the ‘only person to see Mother this weekend’. He enjoyed putting guilt trips on Anna, mostly about her needing to spend more time with their mother, or more recently about the fact she’d returned to work after having Joni, something his timid wife Trudy ‘wouldn’t dream of doing’ after having their twins.

      ‘Great,’ Anna muttered. ‘Leo’s here. I was hoping I could get away with a phone call to tell him.’

      ‘At least you can kill two birds with one stone.’ Anna flinched and Florence sighed. ‘Sorry, poppet, wrong choice of words.’

      ‘What a surprise,’ her brother said as he opened the door. His eyes paused on the gauze over Anna’s cheek. ‘What happened to you?’

      Anna put her hand to her cheek.

      ‘Hello, Leo,’ Florence said, stepping inside and giving him a kiss on his pale cheek. ‘Trudy not here with the kids?’

      Anna admired how her gran could still show Leo affection, despite how cold he

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