Keeley had gone over to Tyler’s house that morning, and Sian was grateful for it. The atmosphere at home had been even more fraught than usual and Keeley had spent much of the previous evening slamming doors and playing music too loudly in her room. Sian might have tried to talk to her, but she didn’t want to, not yet. She had learned over the years that with Keeley it was best just to let her vent her frustrations in her own way and she would come round when she was finally ready.

She hadn’t bothered to get dressed. The news of the rejection of Nathan’s appeal had hit her hard. She wasn’t going anywhere, not today. After abandoning the idea of breakfast, she went into the living room and curled up on the sofa beneath a blanket. She didn’t want to put the heating on, not if she could avoid it. It was all she could manage to keep food in the fridge these days. The more she worked, the more expensive the bills became. It was a never-ending cycle, one she couldn’t see herself ever breaking free of.

Turning the television up in an attempt to drown her thoughts, she sank further into the sofa. So many tears had been shed the previous night that she didn’t think there could possibly be any more to spare. She was wondering whether she might be able to catch up on some sleep when there was a knock at the front door. She sighed; she didn’t want to face anyone this morning. She waited a moment. The doorbell was pressed before a second knock came, this one more insistent. With another sigh, Sian got up from the sofa and went to the window. Pushing aside the curtains, her heart skipped a beat at the sight of her ex standing at the front door. She hadn’t seen Christian in over two years, but little had changed in that time. He was still repulsive.

What was he doing there? She’d taken out a restraining order against him before he had been sentenced, and as far as she knew, it was still applicable. She let the curtain fall and leaned against the window frame, breathing deeply to try to slow her heart rate. The last time she had seen Christian had been the day he was sentenced; before that, it had been the day he’d left her hospitalised. She could still remember it so clearly now: waking in hospital to the muffled sound of nurses’ voices somewhere along the corridor as the memories of the previous evening collapsed on her like a landslide, burying her.

The pounding of his fist on the front door snapped her back to the present.

‘I know you’re in there, Sian! I’m not going anywhere until you speak to me.’

She scanned the room for her mobile phone and caught a glimpse of it on the arm of the sofa where she’d left it earlier. The threat of the police would surely be enough to deter him, unless he had some sort of wish to end up back inside prison so soon after leaving.

‘Sian!’

She crossed the room and retrieved the phone from the sofa. She wouldn’t even threaten him with it, she thought as she tapped in her mobile’s password; she’d just call them and let them turn up without warning him.

‘Police, please,’ she said to the female voice that answered the 999 emergency call. Once she was transferred, she explained the situation. Someone would be round to the house as soon as possible, she was told. In the meantime, Christian had continued to bang his fist against the front door, now in a rhythmic beat that Sian assumed was intended to drive her mad until she relented and answered.

‘Sian,’ she heard again, his voice different this time, softer. ‘I’m not here to cause trouble.’ She realised he was speaking through the letter box now, his voice clearer than it had been. ‘I just want to talk about Nathan.’

The sound of her son’s name momentarily eased Sian’s anger, replacing it with a sadness she knew would keep her trapped in its grip for the rest of the day; for every day until he was released. What did he want to talk about Nathan for? There was nothing for him to say. He was responsible for everything Nathan had done, regardless of what the judge who had passed down his sentence might have said.

She left the living room and went into the hallway, keeping her mobile phone clutched in her hand.

‘Just piss off, Christian. You’re not supposed to be here.’

‘I heard about the appeal.’

Sian leaned against the wall and closed her eyes for a moment. She wondered where everything had gone so wrong. It wasn’t so hard to work out: nineteen years earlier, when she’d met Christian at a party at a friend’s house. That was the moment her life had gone from could-be-something to everything-ruined. She had fallen pregnant within months of meeting him, much to the dismay of her parents. No matter what they had said back then, Christian had been nothing like he was now, or at least she hadn’t thought so at the time. Evil had a clever way of concealing itself sometimes.

‘Look,’ he said through the letter box. ‘I’m not here to argue, okay. I heard about the appeal and … I’m sorry, all right? Prison’s no place for a boy like him. I don’t blame him for what he did, not any more. I’ve had plenty of time to think, Sian.’

In the hallway, Sian rolled her eyes. She’d heard it all before: he’d learned his lesson, he’d changed, he was sorry. All of it meaningless.

‘You’re not supposed to come anywhere near me.’

‘I know that, but I just want to talk. I don’t want any trouble. Please, Sian.’

She stood her ground and waited. Eventually he’d get the message, she thought.

‘Come on, Sian. I don’t expect you to ever forgive me, okay, but let’s try to be civil, shall we? For the kids?’

‘Civil?’ Sian’s composure left her and she strode down the hallway and snatched at the letter-box cover, snapping it up from where his fingers pushed it open. ‘You should have thought about civil when you were smashing my head through the back door.’

A pair of eyes appeared in the gap; the same pair of eyes she had once let fool her with their false kindness. ‘I know, and I’m sorry. I can keep saying sorry but it won’t make any difference will it? Look, I don’t want to talk about this and you don’t want to talk about this, right? I’m here about Nathan.’

Sian kept the letter box lifted, standing to one side of the door so that Christian was unable to see her. Once again, Nathan’s name filled her heart with a sadness that overwhelmed her. Every time she went to visit him, it seemed another small piece of her son had been lost. Since his move from the young offenders’ prison to the central prison in Cardiff, things had only got worse. Another few years and all those small pieces would eventually amount to the whole.

‘Sian,’ Christian tried again, his voice still soft and persuasive. ‘I just want to talk about Nathan, I promise. I know a way we might be able to get him home.’

Sian unlocked the door and opened it slightly. ‘Five minutes.’

Christian raised his hands in mock surrender. ‘Five minutes.’

She glanced along the street as he entered the house, checking that none of the neighbours had seen him there.

‘This place hasn’t changed much,’ he said, looking down the hallway and into the kitchen. He stepped into the living room.

‘Well?’ Sian prompted.

‘Well what?’

She watched helplessly as Christian sat down on the sofa, leaned back and looked around him as though taking a trip down memory lane. Her heart raced as she realised she had made a mistake by letting him in. ‘This plan.’

‘What plan?’ He turned to her and gave her a smile. ‘Put the kettle on, would you, love?’

With the phone still clutched in her hand, Sian felt herself begin to shake. There was no plan to get Nathan home at all; it had been a cruel way of Christian getting himself inside the house.

‘I’ve called the police,’ she told him.

‘You might want to get a few extra cups ready then.’