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large, tender green patches, maybe where she’d hit the car and the concrete, and on the insides of her upper arms there were matching rows of small, dark circles.
    By the time she walked into the kitchen wearing a pair of Jason’s jeans, Kelly’s shirt and with her hair still damp on her shoulders, her hand and face were throbbing. She needed painkillers and strong coffee, in that order.
    â€˜Good grief.’ Jason stopped halfway through making a ham sandwich.
    â€˜A little powder, a touch of blush, no one will notice a thing,’ Liv said.
    â€˜I don’t think you can buy that much make-up.’ He was a teacher at his daughters’ school and was wearing nice trousers, a collared T-shirt and sport shoes – ready to greet parents or run across a playground.
    â€˜I got some make-up for my birthday,’ ten-year-old Bess said.
    She was sitting next to her seven-year-old sister Emma and the sight of them side by side in their blue-checked school dresses gave Liv a hit of nostalgia. She and Kelly had worn the same uniform and Liv had spent plenty of nights sleeping on Kelly’s bedroom floor followed by breakfast in the Burke kitchen. ‘It’s mini-Kell and mini-Liv this morning.’
    Kelly was dressed for work now – lemon blouse, black skirt, ankle-strap pumps, her thick, wavy hair twisted into a silver clip – and tossing cubes of beef into a slow cooker on the other side of the kitchen. She glanced over her shoulder, joined Liv in a quick, silent laugh then switched to pursed lips. ‘Except we ate our cereal instead of playing with it, didn’t we, Aunty Liv?’
    â€˜Oh, I always ate mine.’
    â€˜But you’re not sisters.’ Emma pointed back and forth between her mother and Liv with a spoon.
    â€˜And I’m older than Emma.’ Bess sat taller, as though that proved it.
    â€˜We used to pretend we were sisters,’ Kelly told them. Although, with her Black Irish dark hair and green eyes and Liv’s generations-old Scandinavian heritage, no one ever believed them. ‘And Aunty Liv was ridiculously tall.’
    â€˜That’s because I always ate my breakfast.’
    â€˜Didn’t Mum eat hers?’ Bess asked in a tone that suggested she’d found an escape clause.
    â€˜Well, she did but she was a runt and breakfast didn’t help much.’
    â€˜She’s still a runt and you’re still ridiculously tall, so nothing much has changed really,’ Jason chipped in.
    He got disparaging expressions from two sides of the kitchen. He was right, though, except back then they used to wonder what they’d be like when they were grown up. Beaten up and alone had never crossed Liv’s mind.
    â€˜Can your face be my class news today, Aunty Liv?’ Emma asked.
    â€˜I’m sure you can think of something much nicer to tell your class. What about your dad’s ham sandwich? It looks great.’
    â€˜Don’t be silly, Aunty Liv. Sandwiches aren’t news,’ Bess explained wisely.
    â€˜Then what about that funny thing on your face?’ Liv said to Emma. ‘Oh, it’s your nose.’
    Emma giggled.
    â€˜Tell them about your nose,’ Bess sang.
    â€˜I’ll tell them about your nose,’ Emma sang back.
    Their laughter made Liv wish Cameron was here. Being in this house reminded her of hanging out at Kelly’s as a kid. There were seven in the Burke family – two boys, three girls and her parents. It had seemed like a small village compared to the flat she’d shared with her father. Liv had loved it and years later had built a house big enough for a village just like it. But a second baby had never happened then Thomas left and that was that. Noisy, laughing, dream family gone.
    She ruffled Bess’s hair, kissed the top of Emma’s head and eyed the phone on the kitchen wall. Should she tell Cameron about the assault? Was