Dominique wasn’t sure that she had convinced Benjamin her headache was real, but she was equally unsure she cared. She didn’t feel like being the trophy wife, looking the right way, saying the right things. She hated shooting, anyway. Even with ear defenders on, it might actually set off one of her buzzing headaches. Benjamin had started shooting a year earlier, and it had been a relief when he’d quickly bored of it. But apparently it had been resurrected.

As soon as she heard Benjamin’s car pull away, she went to check on the children. Mouse was curled up on her bed with Ted, reading. She barely glanced up when her mum entered the room.

‘You okay there? Do you want anything to drink? Or eat?’

‘No, thanks.’ A flash of a grin, then Mouse’s eyes buried themselves back in The Worst Witch. She had won it in pass the parcel on Friday, and been so proud showing it off. Dominique spotted something else…

‘Have you been helping yourself to the mince pies, Amber?’ Her mouth twitched into a smile.

‘No, Mummy.’ Mouse looked horrified. The drift of crumbs and icing sugar down her top told a different story.

Dominique backed out, closing the door behind her. As she turned to Ruby’s room, she felt a tug at her jumper. Damn. With a gentle tut, she unhooked her cashmere and silk garment carefully from the nail beside the door. Eased at the fibres until the slight hole it had stretched disappeared. She would have to speak with Benjamin about getting rid of it. She would do it herself, but she knew he would only complain about the tiny hole it would leave in the wood… She sighed, shaking her head. She had learned a long time ago that life was easier if Benjamin got his own way.

She hesitated outside Ruby’s room, then knocked. There was no reply. Another knock.

‘Ruby? Are you okay? May I come in?’

No reply. Of course. Dominique already knew what she’d find before she opened the door, but she still felt her stomach sink when she took in the empty room.

‘I’ll kill her.’

She must have sneaked out to see Harry. If Benjamin found out, Dominique dreaded to think what his reaction would be. At the very least, Ruby would be grounded for the foreseeable future. Which guaranteed a grumpy Christmas for everyone, despite Dom’s own efforts to make this last one together special. She prayed Ruby would be home before Benjamin, then perhaps she could give her daughter a talking to herself, make her see the error of her ways. The thought cheered her. A calm conversation was bound to have more impact than Benjamin’s favoured ‘ton of bricks’ approach – plus, it would make her feel better over his criticism of her own parenting. That comment of his that she ‘wasn’t exactly parent-of-the-year material’ had stung.

Everything seemed to be piling up around her, a mist she could find no way through.

Resisting the temptation to sink to the floor and curl up in a ball, Dominique meandered downstairs, grabbed the landline and dialled.

‘Ruby Thomas, call me as soon as you get this message. At least have the courtesy to let me know where you are and that you’re safe – and what time you’ll be home.’ She hesitated. Wanted to tell her daughter she loved her. But knew she would look weak. ‘I mean it,’ was all she said before hanging up.

Exhaustion really was giving her a pounding headache. She didn’t know what to do with herself. She loaded the dishwasher. Then went upstairs to grab a book.

There was a knife on her pillow.

Who on earth had put that there? Mouse wouldn’t… which left only herself.

She had wanted one last night, but knew better than to give in to that urge. She knew first-hand the damage a blade did sliding effortlessly into flesh.

Yet there it was, shining in the winter sun angling through the large sash window. She must have put it on her pillow.

A low whimper escaped her lips as she edged towards it, head pounding in time with the beat of her heart. She didn’t remember taking it upstairs. But she must have done. Picking it up gingerly between forefinger and thumb, she held it in front of her as she took it downstairs.

After putting it away, she tried to make herself forget by reading her novel. She didn’t take in a single word.

She checked her emails. Lots of offers from different shops, but nothing interesting. She was even so desperate she nipped onto Facebook, but didn’t stay on for long. It really wasn’t her thing at all; she rarely posted because she couldn’t imagine anyone being interested in her life.

After an hour, she was bored stupid with only having the gentle gurgle of the central heating and the glow of the gas fire for company. She kept thinking about finding the knife. She kept thinking about waking in the hallway. Worrying about the implications. Rubbing at the scar on her arm, as if trying to erase it.

She knew that she needed to talk to somebody. Last time, Fiona had been there for her every step of the way. Benjamin hadn’t been on the scene back then; she had been away at university – until forced to give it up after the incident…

When she and Benjamin had got together, she had confessed everything. Although he had been supportive, he hadn’t really understood because he hadn’t seen it himself and it was all in the past.

Now it was spilling into the present again.

Dominique knew that if she didn’t speak to somebody then danger lay ahead for her and her loved ones.

There was only one person in the world she truly trusted right now with her deepest fears. Fiona. She quickly called her best friend.

‘It’s happening again,’ she said.

‘What’s happening again?’ Fiona’s voice was confused but sharp.

‘You know.’

‘What?’ An intake of breath. ‘The sleepwalking?’

‘Yes, the sleepwalking.’ As soon as she said it she burst into tears.

‘Okay, hey, it’s all right. You’re sure this is happening?’

‘Of course I’m sure.’

‘Has, has anyone been hurt?’

‘No, no. Not yet.’