As Justin walked towards the pub, he passed a couple who were obviously worse for wear. Seeing the girl hunched under her boyfriend’s arm, which was possessively draped about her, he couldn’t help but notice the bruising on her arms. Justin felt his gut clench. He’d seen it too many times, in his work in accident and emergency, treating women with smashed faces, broken bones and bruises that had obviously been caused by a fist.

Pulling his attention away from where it very probably wasn’t wanted, he attempted to focus on his own problems, on what he would do next in regard to Sophie, and his marriage.

He needed to talk to Alicia again – obviously he would need to do that. Unfortunately, she wasn’t answering his calls or his texts. She was okay; she’d a hot bath and gone to bed early with a glass of wine and a book, Jessica had said. But after their conversation earlier, had she really? He couldn’t see it. Just couldn’t.

Following the couple into the pub, he noted the inside was much like others he’d been in in the area: decor circa nineties; depressing smoke; yellow and brown. Stepping into the lounge, which was much the same as the bar area, dark and dingy, he didn’t draw much attention. Wearing jeans and a T-shirt, he made sure to fit in with the general clientele, rather than be mistaken for the law, which he had been once or twice. At such times, he’d found, people weren’t very forthcoming.

Locating the man’s whereabouts at a table at the back wall, Justin saw he now had his arm hooked around the girl’s neck, yanking her towards him. Judging by the girl’s body language, she wasn’t a willing participant in the not-so-loving embrace.

‘Dean… Get off!’ she said, scowling and clearly upset as she attempted to pull away from him.

The guy only tightened his grip, his expression one of obvious contempt as he snarled something in her ear.

‘I did not!’ the girl refuted. ‘Dean, for God’s sake, pack it in!’ she shouted, struggling to break free of him and then scrambling hastily away.

The ‘boyfriend’ was up in an instant, grabbing the girl’s wrist and dragging her back. ‘Sit the fuck down!’ he bellowed, shoving her hard onto the bench seat. ‘Where’re you going, hey? To that tosser you’ve been having it off with, is that it?’

‘No!’ she screamed. ‘You’re mental, Dean. I haven’t been near anyone else, I keep telling you. Those drugs are doing your head in.’

‘You’re going nowhere.’ The guy leaned in to clutch a fistful of her top and pull her up again. ‘You fucking slut.’

It was the slap, a stinging blow across her face, that had Justin’s temper snapping, launching him across the room in a second flat.

‘Let her go,’ he seethed, as the man clamped a hand around the girl’s throat, shoving her hard against the wall.

‘Fuck off,’ the guy spat in his direction, and squeezed harder.

Justin looked from him to the girl’s face. She was gagging – literally gasping for breath. What the hell was the matter with everybody, standing around letting this happen?

‘I said, let her go!’ Justin took a step forward.

‘You want some an’ all, do ya?’ The man glared at him, his bloodshot eyes bulging with fury. ‘Back off!’

Seeing him turning his attention back to the girl, Justin reacted instinctively. ‘I said let her go,’ he warned him. ‘You’ll kill her.’ Intending to drag him off her, he moved meaningfully towards him, and the man turned on him like a rabid dog. Spitting obscenities, he seized Justin’s shirt, pulling him forward and landing first one, and then two, heavy blows to his jaw.

Stumbling backwards into a table, Justin held his footing – just – as the man advanced towards him, his face puce and contorted with rage. ‘You really shouldn’t have done that,’ he said. His own temper spiking, he righted himself, wiped the back of his hand across his mouth and stood to face him.

The man stopped, his chest heaving, his eyes full of violent malevolence, though Justin saw a flash of uncertainty.

A coward, Justin thought, standing his ground. They all were – cowardly scum, picking on people who didn’t have a chance of fighting back.

‘Tosser.’ The man’s mouth curled into a snarl as he stepped towards Justin, and then shoved violently past him.

Cursing liberally as he went, the man strode on and banged out of the exit, and Justin breathed a huge sigh of relief. The guy was bigger than he was. Heavier. Justin wasn’t sure he would have been able to hold his own. ‘Are you okay?’ he asked, turning back to the girl.

She nodded shakily. ‘Yeah, thanks,’ she said. ‘He goes a bit mental sometimes. He’ll cool off eventually.’

Justin sighed inwardly. It sounded like she’d probably accept his apologies, which would no doubt be profuse – until the next time. ‘Do you want me to call anybody?’ he offered. ‘Give you a lift somewhere?’

‘No.’ She shook her head and indicated her phone. ‘I’ve called my brother. He’s on his way.’

Justin nodded. ‘I’ll be at the bar,’ he said, intending to stick around until the brother showed up. ‘You might want to do yourself a favour and find someone who doesn’t talk with his fists,’ he suggested. ‘You only get one life. Why waste it on someone like that?’

‘I don’t intend to,’ she assured him. ‘I’m going to college. Gonna get away from him.’

‘Sounds like a plan.’ Justin smiled, despite the sharp ache in his jaw.

Going back to the bar, keeping one eye on the girl until the brother arrived, Justin rang Jessica. He needed answers. If he wasn’t going to get those answers from Alicia, then he needed to meet up with Jessica, in private – something, it was occurring to him, she seemed pretty damn desperate to do. She might not have all the answers, but she was Alicia’s bloody sister. She would have some of them. Or she ought to. If she’d been ‘sworn to secrecy’, as she’d repeated more than once, Justin wanted to know exactly what about. The affair? The pregnancy? If she’d known about the affair, and he was working on the assumption that she had, then he needed the details. He hadn’t wanted to hear them before, but he did now, every single sordid one of them.

Arranging to meet Jessica the next evening, Justin ended his call, and watched as a man came into the pub and walked directly across to the girl. Seeing her jump up to meet him, he waited for her to pass by. Relieved when she gave him a thumbs up as she did, he knocked the dregs of his pint back and headed out after them.

He’d gone no more than a few yards when his progress was cut short, by first one, then two, and finally three thuggish men. Justin didn’t have time to consider his options before he was dead-legged from behind.

‘Oh dear, poor sod’s legless, ain’t you, mate?’ someone said tauntingly, close to his ear.

Justin felt his collar being clutched and tugged tight to his throat. An arm slid around his upper torso. They were obviously going to kick the shit out of him, he guessed, his gut turning over. He would stand no chance of fighting back against three of them. All he could do was pray they stopped before they killed him.

Justin guessed wrong.

Jesus Christ, no. Seeing the sharp glint of the blade in his peripheral vision, he felt sweat prickle his skin, saturating the shirt on his back, as he realised what was about to happen.

‘Don’t,’ Justin begged, swallowing against the arm now constricting his airway. ‘Please, don’t…’ His words died on his lips as he felt the knife going in, sliding slickly under his ribs, then a sharp, violent twist, before the blade was pulled out.

Please, God, no. Justin sank from his knees to all fours as the men backed away. This wasn’t happening. Please don’t let this be happening. Sophie. As searing pain ripped through his side, Justin blinked the perspiration from his eyes and struggled to get to his feet, only to find the use of his limbs had deserted him.

He stared at the pavement and sucked in a breath. It stopped painfully short of his chest. Nausea churned his stomach. His heart thudded, loud and sluggish in his head.

No! He started counting.

Tried to control his involuntary shuddering as the crimson stain on the hall floor seeped towards him. Shaking his head, he blinked against the bright light that shone through the cracked mirror. Then blinked again, hard, as blood seeped from the cracks, rich red globules, tears for his children. Warm blood. His blood.

His mind screaming, he attempted to shut out the sounds – melodic laughter, chimes tinkling. But they weren’t chimes. They were church bells. And his baby was singing.

Justin jolted, gulping back the salty taste in his throat as the dark closed in around him.