‘When will you ever learn?’ Luke said to the boy sitting beside him, his frustration apparent in every syllable. ‘Didn’t that black eye teach you anything?’

Callum stared at him, his bottom lip quivering slightly, the blue and yellow haze around his right eye all that was left of his injury. Defiance shone in his eyes, but he wouldn’t speak, just sat there, a smouldering presence in the passenger seat. He was only nine, but had a teenager’s attitude and reminded Luke of himself at that age, with his mess of sandy curls, earnest blue eyes and a tendency to bottle everything up. Except Luke’s eyes hadn’t been masked by fear, and his body hadn’t scrunched in on itself like Callum’s did, his shoulders pulled up to his ears. Luke’s fingernails hadn’t been bitten so much that the skin around them bled.

Rain drummed on the windscreen, the monotonous sound of the wipers getting on Luke’s nerves. He turned the heater up a notch, aware that Callum was shivering.

‘We are going and that is it.’ Luke tried to make his voice calmer than he felt. ‘No arguments. Okay?’

Luke sighed. It was all his fault, wasn’t it? His fault that his child had started wetting the bed, that he cried himself to sleep, that he hardly spoke to him anymore, wouldn’t even look at him most of the time. So much anger in that little heart. So much pain.

It has to stop. Luke knew that, and this trip seemed like the only option open to him now. But could he bring himself to do it? Could he really end this life that he’d made for them all?

What a responsibility children are, he thought. Their little lives in our hands. And he’d managed to mess up his children’s lives good and proper.

Luke’s hands gripped the steering wheel a little tighter. This was so much harder than he’d imagined. He stared ahead at the four lanes of cars, stuck in a stationary queue on the Thelwall Viaduct, just outside Manchester; the M6 at its finest. He checked his watch, an excuse to not look at his son, who he knew was still glowering. Luke could feel the waves of anger flowing from Callum, reverberating through the air, and being sucked into Luke’s body with every breath he took.

He looked in his rear-view mirror, the car behind almost resting on his bumper. He caught a glimpse of his dark-haired daughter, head bent over her tablet; another reminder that this decision was not just about him. This was about his children. About taking the pain and fear and worries away. He nodded to himself. He could do that for them, couldn’t he? However hard this was going to be, it was an act of mercy that had to be done. There really was no choice now. He inched forwards as the queue started to move.

Luke flicked a glance at Callum. ‘Sorry, fella, I didn’t mean to get cross.’ He ruffled his son’s hair. ‘I know this is scary, but let’s just stick with it for a little while longer, okay? You’ve got to trust me.’

Callum pressed his lips together, a frown making a groove between his eyebrows, his expression so like his mother’s that it made Luke’s breath hitch in his throat. Callum nodded before turning his face away, such a familiar expression of defeat that it squeezed Luke’s heart. The beep of a horn made him look up. The cars in front had moved on and he accelerated, shifted the car into second gear, his jaw clamped shut. They were on their way again. On their way to peace.