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    Josie leant down over her dying friend and looked deep into her face. Her skin was ghostly white, smeared with splashes of mud and dribbles of blood which now gurgled and bubbled from the corners of her mouth. Her dark, panic-filled eyes began to glaze over and lose their focus. She was aware of Josie lifting the stone again, but nothing more.
    She knew that her friend was dead but Josie had to be certain. She smashed the rock into her face, breaking her left cheekbone and almost dislocating her jaw. Exhausted with effort she rolled away from the corpse and sat panting on the wet grass nearby.
    Josie stared at the sprawling dark shadows of the town below her. She couldn't go down there now. She couldn't go home either. She didn't know where she was going to go or what she was going to do. Maybe she could just stay in the park and hope no-one comes looking, she thought. Either that or she'd have to take her chances and just run.
    She hadn't had any choice. She'd had to kill Shona. She felt no guilt or remorse for what she'd done, just relief.

4

    We're out. We've escaped. For the first time in months Lizzie and I have managed to get away from the house together without any of the children in tow. I can't remember the last time we were out together like this. The fact that we're crammed into a small, dark and sweaty concert hall with six or seven hundred other people doesn't seem to matter. The gig hasn't even started yet but the background music is already deafening and the lighting is virtually non-existent. The chances of us actually managing to speak to each other are slim.
    'Doesn't feel right, does it?' Liz shouts at me. She has to lift herself up onto tiptoes to yell into my ear.
    'What doesn't?' I shout back.
    'Not having the kids here. I'm not used to it. I keep looking round expecting to see at least one of them.'
    'Make the most of it,' I tell her. 'How long's it been since we went out together on our own?'
    'Months,' she screams, struggling to make herself heard over the noise.
    The conversation is over quickly. The effort of having to yell at each other is already making my throat sore and the gig hasn't even started yet. I watch the stage as roadies and other crew members check the lights, the sound and the instruments. How long does it take them to get ready? They seem to have been setting things up for ages, there can't be long left to wait now. Someone's going round putting towels and drinks down and gaffer-taping set lists to the floor.
    Christ, what was that? Something hit me from the side and I'm down on the floor before I know what's happened. I try to stand up quickly, my heart thumping in my chest. Liz grabs my arm and pulls me to my feet. I don't want any trouble tonight. I'm not good at dealing with confrontation. I really don't want any trouble.
    'Sorry, mate,' an over-excited and half-drunk fan shouts at me. He's holding two (now) half-empty drinks in his hands and I can tell from his blurred and directionless eyes that he's off his face on drugs or booze or both. We're standing close to the mixing desk and there's a carpet-covered bump running along the floor next to us which protects the power cables I think. Looks like this idiot has tripped up the step and gone flying. He mumbles something about being sorry again and then staggers off deeper into the crowd.
    'You all right?' Liz asks, wiping splashes of drink from my shirt.
    'Fine,' I answer quickly. My heart's still beating at ten times its normal speed. Relieved, I pull Lizzie towards me and wrap my arms around her. Having her next to me makes me feel safe. It's not often we're able to be this close anymore. That's the price you pay for having too many kids too quickly in a flat that's too small. Funny how we can stand in a room with the best part of a thousand strangers and have less chance of being interrupted than at home with just three children.
    Lizzie turns round and lifts herself up onto tiptoes to speak to me again.
    'Think