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remember? How would I know what a two-year-old needs?’
    I can’t push Robert off, but I jump up again and go to stand in front of the fake fire that we never use. My earlier fear and panic have transformed into a ball of rage. I spin round and glare at him, waving my hand towards his face and making a stabbing motion with my index finger to punctuate every word.
    ‘I thought you were all
dead
.’ My voice cracks, and comes out much weaker than I want it to. ‘How
could
you, Robert? How
could
you?’
    Robert turns to Philippa and gives her the benefit of the full shrug action – hands out, palms facing upwards, as if to say, ‘Do you see what I have to put up with?’
    It’s not long after this demonstration of my volatility that Philippa decides to leave. While Robert goes to get her coat, she speaks to me quietly, squeezing my hand.
    ‘If you’re worried about anything, Olivia, this is where you can contact me. Call me if you need to.’ She passes me a business card, and I quickly push it into my pocket as my husband comes back into the room. If he sees it, I know he will take it from me.
    Robert shows Philippa out, and when he comes back into the living room he’s smiling, looking pleased with himself.
    I always thought I was clever, but clearly I’m not clever enough. Robert is the master, and my brief burst of anger is seeping away, to be replaced by fear. I am frightened of my own husband – of what he might do.
    ‘Why did you do that, Robert?’ I ask, although I have already guessed the answer. I can hear the quiver in my voice, and Robert will know that the adrenaline of panic has gone – and with it, my fury.
    I’m scared, and I can see the satisfaction in his eyes.
    ‘Do what? I just took our children away for a couple of days. I don’t know how you could have forgotten.’ He attempts a puzzled look, but he knows I’m not fooled.
    I turn away from him. I can’t bear to look at him. When I speak, my words come out at little more than a whisper.
    ‘You
know
I didn’t forget. That’s not what you were going to do
at all
. You were going for a bloody
pizza
.’
    I watch him in the mirror and see the corners of his mouth lift ever so slightly. Violence doesn’t come naturally to me, but if I had a weapon, I swear I would kill him right now.
    He reaches out his hands to my shoulders, and I only just prevent myself from flinching at his touch. He turns me round and looks into my eyes, as if that will make me believe his lies.
    ‘I wasn’t
ever
just going for a pizza. You know that.’ Robert puts his head on one side and just looks at me. ‘I wonder if that’s how it feels to be a divorced woman. Each time her children go away with their father, she has no idea what they’re doing or where they’re going. They could be anywhere. Just imagine.’
    Like a child, I lift my hands to cover my ears. I don’t want to hear what he is saying. I want to get out of the room, but he is between me and the door, and he’s still talking. Still telling me how I am the only thing that matters in his life.
    He comes towards me, and reaches out to grab my arms and pull them down to my hips. I don’t try to resist. He stands very close – so close that I can see the individual pores of his skin.
    He leans forwards to whisper in my ear and I feel his breath, hot on my cheek. ‘If you leave me, Olivia…’

PART TWO
    TWO YEARS LATER

7
    Friday
    There was a buzz in the air as Tom Douglas walked into the pub where members of his team were celebrating their latest success. It was impossible to identify individual voices through the hubbub, but somehow noise had a different feel to it when it was celebratory. Voices were pitched higher, people spoke more quickly, odd bursts of laughter penetrated the general commotion. This, however, was one hell of a night for a celebration.
    Tom had been back in Manchester for several months now after a brief sabbatical in Cheshire following his resignation from the Met, and