When Jason came downstairs, showered and dressed in shorts and a T-shirt, he found Greta sitting awkwardly on the kitchen floor, her bump positioned between her legs, and surrounded by Barbie dolls.

‘Make her wear this outfit now,’ Amy said, holding out a naked doll and a fistful of tiny clothes.

‘Ooh, she’ll look beautiful in that, Amy. Nice choice.’ Greta attempted to squeeze the doll into an impossibly tight dress.

‘Getting in some practice?’ He placed his hands on his wife’s shoulders, giving them a quick squeeze. Small talk was hard, but keeping things normal in front of Amy was important.

‘Jason,’ Greta said, looking up at him. He knew her well enough to sense that something was wrong. ‘Can you help me up?’

Jason eased her to her feet. ‘Are you OK?’

‘I’ll be back in a minute, Amy love.’ Greta made a face at Jason, beckoning him out into the hallway. ‘It’s Callum,’ she whispered, pushing the door closed. ‘He’s been arrested.’

Jason’s eyes flared wide. ‘What? Why didn’t someone come and wake me?’

‘There was no point, there was nothing you could have done. Claire and Nick have gone down to the police station while I look after Amy.’ Then she explained why.

‘What about Mum? Is she frantic?’

‘No one’s told her yet. Cal has a solicitor representing him, a good one apparently. Let’s hope it’s some kind of mistake.’

For a moment, Jason was silent, frozen in thought, but then he shoved his feet into a pair of flip-flops discarded by the back door. ‘I need to go up to Mum and Dad’s,’ he said in a way that belied his anxiety about facing his father.

‘Jase, do you think that’s wise right now?’

‘You don’t understand,’ he said. ‘I need to.’

Greta opened her mouth to speak but closed it again. She watched as he strode out of the Old Stables and up towards the farmhouse. Amy grumbled from the other room, complaining that her doll’s dress wouldn’t go on, so she went back to help. As she lowered herself into a chair, she froze midway, grabbing her stomach.

Oh God, please not now, she thought to herself.

---

Maggie had finally received a phone call back from Rain’s father after he’d heard her increasingly frantic messages. He’d been away for a few days. ‘The silly girl has probably run off with some boy. You know what she’s like. She’ll be back when he gets sick of her or she runs out of money.’

‘She’s fifteen, Peter. That’s a terrible thing to say,’ Maggie replied. ‘Anyway, she didn’t take any money to have it run out.’

‘I see where this is going,’ Peter said drily. ‘How much do you need?’

‘For God’s sake, I don’t want anything from you,’ Maggie said. ‘Our daughter is missing.’ She’d broken down then, realising how little he cared. ‘What if someone found out about us and she’s been kidnapped? Have you had any demands?’

‘No. But you sound as though you’re almost expecting that. Or about to make one.’

There was a moment’s silence. ‘I’d hoped that maybe she’d come to you, that’s all.’

‘Well, she hasn’t,’ Peter said curtly. ‘Be sure to let me know when she turns up.’

Maggie hung up, mildly heartened that he’d asked to know when she was safe. She needed him to care about her just a little bit. ‘She’s not with her father,’ she said to Shona, who was nearby. ‘I should have realised that. If Rain had gone to him, then he’d have phoned me immediately to come and get her. He would never jeopardise his career or his family.’

Maggie had slept fitfully the night before, waking to the sound of someone leaving the house at dawn. She’d glanced at her watch – it was 5.11 a.m. – and gone to the bedroom window. Nick was half walking, half running up the drive towards the Old Stables. Was he going to see Claire? Her brain was too sleepy to think through the implications, though she’d found out why a couple of hours later.

‘Jason?’ Maggie said, as he came into the farmhouse kitchen looking flustered and wide-eyed. He was the last person she expected to see.

‘Darling,’ Shona said to her son. The look on his face drew both women close. ‘What’s wrong?’

‘Is there news?’ Maggie braced herself.

‘There’s no easy way to say this,’ he said. ‘Callum was arrested early this morning. He’s been taken to the police station.’ He explained what had happened, trying to gloss over the details for Maggie’s sake. Shona sat down and Maggie stood silent, stunned, as they listened.

‘That’s just not possible,’ Shona said. ‘Callum would never do anything like that. Patrick and I must go down to the station and vouch—’

‘But what if he did?’ Maggie said quietly, covering her mouth. ‘What if he did something to Rain and she ran away or worse, what if he…’

‘What if who did what?’

Jason froze. Patrick was standing in the doorway. Whatever the state of his mind, he still commanded a great presence. ‘Tell me what’s going on.’ He eased himself into the fireside chair as if it were the only place he belonged.

‘It’s Callum, darling,’ Shona said, filling him in, having to remind him that Rain was still missing.

‘Let the lawyer do his job,’ Patrick said, staring at Jason. ‘John knows what he’s doing.’ Then he went quiet for a moment, his stare still fixed on his son. ‘Will you give Jason and me a moment, please?’

Shona looked at Maggie, nodding, and beckoned her out before the day’s search began once again.

---

Jason held his father’s stare as he went to the armchair on the other side of the fireplace. He sat down. ‘Dad,’ he said without emotion. It was where Patrick had taught him to play chess. The fire would be roaring, and Jason’s left ear and cheek would turn scarlet from the heat and frustration. He’d never won a single game against his father.

‘Son,’ came the reply.

‘How have you been?’ Jason asked, knowing he had to start somewhere.

‘Apparently, I’m losing my mind.’

Jason gave a tiny smile. ‘If it’s any consolation, I forgot our wedding anniversary last year.’

‘Not me,’ Patrick replied proudly. ‘I got your mother…’ He trailed off. ‘A necklace, I think. Yes, it was a necklace.’

Jason nodded, knowing his father would never admit to the full extent of his illness. He was a proud man.

‘So where have you been all this time?’ Patrick said, as if he’d all but forgotten the long-standing etiquette of their animosity.

Jason gave a small laugh. ‘Living in London, building a life for myself. Trying to get over stuff.’ He just wanted to get it all out, to spill out all his feelings, to seek answers and settle scores. But he knew things didn’t work like that with Patrick.

His father’s eyes narrowed as if he was sifting through memories, trying to pick out the correct feelings to accompany them. ‘You never understood. Still don’t, do you?’

‘No, you’re right – I don’t understand, Dad.’ Jason’s heart clenched as he considered getting up and leaving. But something made him stay. ‘I was penniless, an addict, and I was depressed and suicidal. I couldn’t get work, acting or otherwise. I suffered the same as everyone because of what happened to Lenni. My grief may have surfaced years later, but it doesn’t make it any less real.’

‘And you don’t think I’ve suffered over the years because of her? All the guilt, the worry that I should be doing more for her, the effort and thought it still takes up on a daily basis? What kind of father lets something like that happen to his daughter?’

‘No, Dad, none of us were suffering because of her. In the end, our suffering came from not having anyone to blame, from not knowing what happened.’

Patrick said nothing, but his eyes misted with tears. Jason felt helpless, angry and as if the wall between them would never be broken down. His father did remember why Jason returned to London that day, he could see it in his eyes.

‘I needed caring for as much as you cared for Lenni, Dad. That was all.’ Realising there was nothing else to say, Jason rose from the saggy old chair and turned to leave.

‘Son,’ Patrick said, as his hand was on the door. ‘I still do care for her,’ he said in a weak and shaky voice. ‘Like I care for all of you.’

Jason gave a small nod and left. Some things were never meant to change, he thought, walking slowly back to his wife.