Finally at home – her real home – Sophie sat on her bed, not quite able to believe she was here. Everything was exactly as it was when she’d left. Normal. The bedroom, which her mum and dad had decorated, knowing who she was, was hers. She was an individual, with a mind of her own. The only thing out of place was her notebook. She couldn’t remember where she’d left that. In her drawer, she’d thought, but certainly not neatly placed on the dressing table. Her dad had done that. Not her mum. Her mum rarely touched her things. She’d once said she’d hate her to think she’d been snooping. Though she doubted her dad had been snooping. More likely it had been pulled out by that freak when he’d come in here, touching her things.

An involuntary shudder running through her, Sophie pulled her knees up to her chest, closed her eyes and rested her head. And then she snapped her eyes open as her mind conjured up an image of him, the look in his eyes changing from fondness to fury like the flick of a switch.

Sliding off the bed, she walked across to her mirror, her arms wrapped about herself as she examined her reflection. She couldn’t believe how stupid she’d been. How utterly naive. How badly she’d misjudged people. She hadn’t listened to her mum or her dad, just made assumptions and then charged off to nurse her own wounds. She’d listened to Paul Radley instead, been impressed by him, completely taken in by him. She wasn’t sure she could ever trust herself again. She’d acted like a moody, selfish brat. And there she’d been yelling at her mum and dad because she’d wanted to be treated like an adult.

‘Knock, knock,’ her mum said behind her, tapping on the open door. ‘Penny for them?’ she asked, coming to place an arm around her shoulders.

‘Just thinking.’ Sophie shrugged.

Her mum eyed her warily. ‘About?’

Sophie hesitated, and then decided that maybe getting through this together meant being truthful with each other whatever. ‘That maybe I’m not as mature as I thought I was.’

Her mum moved around her. ‘We go through life growing up, Sophie, trust me. Learning from our mistakes. And we all make them. My gran used to say something, I don’t think I really got it until I’d suffered true loss, but when I was young, crying over something or other, she used to say, “Beautiful things make life worth living. Pain and sorrow turns to wisdom in time.” I think she was right. If you’re beating yourself up because you’re imagining any of what happened is your fault, then don’t. You have nothing to reproach yourself for.’ She locked her eyes firmly on hers. ‘You’re fine just the way you are: individual, quirky, caring and beautiful. You make my life worth living. Okay?’

Sophie’s mouth twitched into a smile. ‘You forgot the super-intelligent and hugely talented bit.’

‘And that.’ Smiling back, her mum took hold of her shoulders. ‘You’re okay, Sophie. A normal, well-balanced teenager.’

‘Apart from the odd moody moment,’ Sophie pointed out.

‘Um, well, there are those.’ Her mum furrowed her brow and then laughed. ‘They’re normal, Sophie. Allowed. It’s called being human. Trust me, you’re an extremely loving and much loved person,’ she said forcefully. ‘I’ve loved you from the second I felt you growing inside me. I love everything that you are. And what you are is good, through and through. No one can take that away from you. The only thing people can rob you of, if you let them, is your confidence. Don’t let him do that, Sophie.’

Sophie nodded, but dropped her gaze. She was trying, but she just didn’t feel confident any more. Her mum had done it though. Somehow, she’d managed to find the strength to move on with her life, despite what had happened to her at the freak’s hands. She hadn’t been honest with Justin, something she clearly bitterly regretted, but she’d always been there for him. For her, too. Maybe her great-gran’s saying was right. Her mum had learned from her mistakes. Sophie would do the same. She would certainly be wiser in future and value those people who really did love her.

‘Did he mention your surprise?’ her mum asked her.

Sophie looked back up at her curiously.

‘Your dad, did he tell you about your surprise sixteenth birthday present?’

Sophie’s smile widened. ‘No,’ she said, betting it was something really cool. Her dad always got her cool stuff: her Red or Dead boots; the puffer jacket he’d seen her drooling over in Miss Selfridge. Her heart dipped again, though, when she remembered the luxurious things Paul Radley had tried to tempt her with, which she’d actually thought were cool.

‘Well?’ she asked, as her mum eyed her teasingly.

‘Sorry.’ Her mum held up her hands. ‘I can’t say. Your dad will kill me if I tell you before he does.’

‘Yeah, right.’ Sophie rolled her eyes. ‘I very much doubt that. Dad wouldn’t hurt a fly. That’s why he’s a doctor.’

Her mum glanced down. ‘No,’ she said, smiling sadly now. ‘No, he wouldn’t.’

Noticing a tear plop down her cheek, Sophie looked at her, startled. ‘Mum,’ she said, pulling her into a hug, ‘I thought we weren’t supposed to be letting him win.’

‘We’re not.’ Alicia squeezed her hard back. ‘They’re tears of relief, that’s all. That you’re here. God, I’ve missed you. Come on,’ she said, easing away and running the back of her hand under her nose. ‘Let’s go and find your father. He can give you the guided tour.’

‘Tour?’ Sophie’s mind boggled. ‘What’s he got me, Buckingham Palace?’

Following her mum to the door, Sophie quashed another bout of guilt as she realised how upset they both must have been on her sixteenth. They’d always pulled out all the stops on her birthday – having her friends over, buying a cake. Her mum had even made one once. It had taken her hours. She was rubbish in the kitchen, she’d always said, making no excuses for what she called her deficient domestic goddess gene. Sophie’s thoughts swung again to Paul Radley. She’d had no friends while she’d been stuck in that apartment, not realising she was actually stuck in it. No phone. No contact with anyone. She doubted whether he would ever have let any of her friends in it, so OCD was he. Whatever happened to him, after what he’d done to her mum and dad, he deserved it, she decided.

‘It’s not quite Buckingham Palace,’ Justin said, looking rueful as they met him on the landing. Obviously, he’d overheard. Sophie felt bad about that too. She hoped he wasn’t thinking she rated material stuff over what really mattered. Because she didn’t, and now she never would. She’d make sure to tell him that. ‘A bit smaller,’ he added, allowing them to pass.

‘A shoebox?’ Preferably containing new Red or Dead boots. Sophie glanced hopefully over her shoulder, noticing Justin’s hand going to the small of her mum’s back, which she’d managed to strain somehow.

‘Any better?’ he asked her.

‘A bit.’ Alicia replied. ‘Still painful though.’

‘Bend at the knee next time,’ Justin advised, as they followed Sophie down the stairs. ‘So, when did you do it exactly?’

‘I’m not sure,’ Alicia said vaguely, stopping at the basement door.

‘What? You can’t remember when you shifted the furniture?’ Justin sounded dubious.

‘Not exactly, no. Not to worry.’ She waved away his concerns. ‘I’m sure it will be fine once I’ve rested it.’

Noticing they were both loitering at the basement door now, Sophie back-stepped. ‘A tiger?’ she said, looking bemusedly at them. ‘Must be, if you’re keeping it chained up in the basement.’

‘Try again.’ Alicia smiled, swinging the door open.

‘My very own vat of vintage wine?’ Sophie peeked down after her as her mum led the way.

‘In your dreams,’ Alicia called back. ‘Well, come on then. Your dad will be having a nervous breakdown wondering whether you like it.’