When Sian got home, Keeley was in the living room watching television. She was dressed in a pair of pyjamas, and the sight made Sian’s heart sink a little. She had hoped that her daughter might be going out that evening and that she would have the house to herself for just a few hours, but the pyjamas meant that Keeley would be staying put. Sian was going to have to tell her about Nathan, though she had been hoping to put it off for as long as possible. If she didn’t do it tonight, Keeley would end up hearing it from someone else.

‘Not seeing Tyler tonight then?’

Keeley’s eyes remained fixed to the TV screen as she answered. ‘No.’

Sian walked through to the kitchen and flicked on the kettle. Then she turned it off again. She needed something stronger; something that might take the edge off the day that lay behind her and the evening that stretched ahead. In the back of the cupboard above the washing machine she found a half-empty bottle of vodka.

She took a glass from one of the cupboards and poured in a large measure of the spirit before topping it up with Coke from the fridge. Gulping down half the glass, she leaned against the back door and closed her eyes. The letter was at the bottom of her bag, where she had stuffed it early that morning. It had been waiting for her on the hallway floor when she’d got home from work the previous day, and it had taken her until Keeley had gone to bed to summon the courage to open it and read its contents. She had already known the news it would hold, but knowing hadn’t made seeing the words any easier.

She finished the drink and mixed herself another before taking it to the living room. Keeley was still sprawled on the sofa, her attention fixed on the television screen, where a young couple were arguing over a sex text the man had sent to the woman’s sister.

‘Keeley?’

‘Yep.’

‘Can we talk for a minute?’

‘Yep.’

Sian waited for her daughter to turn off or mute the television, but she did neither. The voices of the shouting couple continued to fill the room. When Sian said nothing more, Keeley glanced up at her. ‘What is it?’

Sian sat down and sipped her drink. The flood of warmth the alcohol had momentarily sent racing through her body had already passed and in its place a chill had seeped into her bones. She felt a heaviness settle in the pit of her stomach.

‘I’ve had a letter about your brother from the Criminal Appeals Court.’

For the first time, Keeley turned to look at her mother. Her face, pale and for once make-up-free, was difficult to read. This was nothing new. She would be fourteen the following month. Nathan had been exactly the same at that age, aloof and unresponsive. Yet Sian knew just how close her son and daughter had been, as thick as thieves throughout their childhood. Her body tensed in anticipation of Keeley’s reaction.

‘Nathan’s appeal?’

Sian nodded. She wasn’t sure she would even need to say anything; she knew her face was already giving away the contents of the letter.

Reading her mother’s thoughts and understanding what she wasn’t able to say, Keeley stood hurriedly from the sofa. The glass of Coke that had been at her feet was knocked over, spilling in a dark puddle across the laminate flooring. ‘Why?’ she wailed. She stood over Sian, fighting back tears as she tried to comprehend the news. ‘You said he stood a good chance this time.’

Sian shook her head. She might have said that, but she had never really believed it. Nathan’s sentence of twelve years had already been lenient in comparison to other similar cases. His defence lawyer claimed he had done as much as he could to press for mitigating circumstances, but they had all known it wouldn’t be enough. Nathan was still guilty, and he had pleaded so.

‘Listen,’ she said, trying to keep her voice steady and hold her own sadness in check. ‘This isn’t forever, okay? If he keeps his head down and carries on doing what he’s doing, he could be home in a few years.’

Keeley’s eyes narrowed, disbelieving. ‘How many years?’

Sian hesitated. Nathan had been in prison now for just short of two years. He would probably have to serve at least half his sentence before he was even considered for early release. He would be twenty-two by then, no longer a boy.

‘I don’t know,’ she said, guessing it a better answer than the truth.

Keeley looked suddenly so young, standing on the living room rug in her pyjamas, her mousy hair dishevelled. Her face bore a confused expression of dejection and anger. Like Nathan, the child in Keeley had quickly disappeared. Sian could just about remember the days when she had wrapped her little girl in a blanket and held her close when the nightmares had come, but those memories were fading faster by the day. She had tried her best to forget them.

‘I hate him,’ Keeley said quietly, the words almost lost to the room.

Sian wondered if Keeley somehow knew that her father had been released from prison. Had someone already told her? She lingered on the words, chewing over them before swallowing them down. Things were hard enough already.

As her daughter’s face twisted into a grimace and her body began to shake with anger, Sian looked down at the drink in her hand. She wished she had a bigger glass, one she could sink right to the bottom of and drown in.

She flinched as Keeley hurried past, slamming the door as she left the room, then downed the remainder of her drink and leaned back into the sofa, trying not to think about what might come next. He would come to the house, she knew he would. The restraining order meant nothing to him, and she knew that the temptation to cause trouble would prove too much for him to resist.

And if he did, then what?

She sighed. Like so many other things, it was easier not to think too much about it. Thinking had proved to be a dangerous and compulsive pastime. She leaned her head back, and tried to fight the vision of Christian’s face that greeted her when she closed her eyes. It was only a matter of time before she would come face to face with him again.