She pulled onto her drive, next to Hannah’s red hatchback, and saw that her lounge was brightly lit. Hannah had let herself in and was in the kitchen. Her heart pounded as she grabbed another tissue and blew her nose. She should’ve cancelled on the grounds of having an infectious illness, but she knew Hannah wouldn’t believe her and things would sour between them even more. The car’s fluorescent clock stared back at her. She was only ten minutes late. She wondered if Hannah had arrived early. She had a knack for doing that, and her earliness always made Gina’s rushed lateness seem worse than it was.

Gina walked down the drive and peered through the window. Ebony pranced across the window ledge, holding her tail high as she spotted her owner. From outside, Gina watched as Hannah made a cup of tea and Gracie shuffled along the floor in a lilac romper suit. The toddler spotted Gina and began cooing. She couldn’t hear the words but she could see as Gracie shuffled closer to her. The toddler stood, took several steps and then fell. Hannah ran to grab Gracie and spotted Gina. She glanced at her watch and frowned. ‘Sorry,’ Gina mouthed. She walked over to the front door and let herself in. ‘Sorry I’m late. I was held up in an interv—’

‘Don’t tell me, Mum, I don’t want to know. I’ve been here twenty minutes, bored out my tree. You could’ve texted or something.’ She grabbed the toddler and walked back into the kitchen. ‘It’s freezing in this house. Gracie is cold. I didn’t know how to turn on the heating.’ She placed the toddler and a couple of plastic toys on the rug.

Gina bent down and flicked on a switch at the side of the gas fire. ‘There we go.’ The red and orange flames flickered and the room suddenly had a cosier feel. Gina switched on the lamp and turned the main light off. ‘It should warm up in a minute. How’s my little Gracie?’ She kneeled down and stroked her soft fair baby hair.

‘She doesn’t know who you are.’ Hannah grabbed her tea and closed the door to the lounge before sitting down.

‘That’s not true, is it, chicken?’ Gina asked as she picked Gracie up and hugged her.

‘Nannananna,’ she shouted.

Gina smiled and looked up at Hannah. ‘Of course she knows who her nana is. Don’t you, Gracie?’

The wind howled outside. Ebony jumped off the window ledge and began competing for Gina’s attention. Gina held Hannah in one arm and stroked Ebony with her free hand. The cat soon tired of the fuss and wandered out towards the kitchen. Hannah slurped her tea and placed the cup on the coffee table. ‘We need to talk about things.’

It had to be about Terry and the bloody memorial service. She could see the seriousness on Hannah’s face as she leaned forward and linked her hands together. ‘Okay,’ Gina replied as she bit her bottom lip.

‘I’ve managed to save most of the money for Dad’s service. It doesn’t seem a lot, but with Gracie and all, I have three hundred pounds. I can get everything in, including a little buffet at the pub after, for six hundred. Mum, please give me the rest. He wasn’t just my father, he was your husband. Don’t you care? He’s been gone twenty years. He’d be fifty this week.’ Hannah looked away.

Gina’s stomach dropped. The flickering of the fire seemed distorted and she felt a chill tickling her neck. Yes, Terry had been Hannah’s father, in a biological sense. But they were talking about the same Terry who would probably have killed Gina had he still been alive; the man who subjected her to levels of brutality and control that people only experience in captivity, in a war zone. The last thing she wanted to do was remember him and the birthday he was missing out on. She reached for her chest, aware of each and every one of her bones, and flinched.

‘Are you even listening to me?’

Gracie grabbed a strand of hair that had fallen over Gina’s face and tugged. She teased the hair from the little girl’s hand and turned away. ‘I’ll give it to you, all of it. Six hundred pounds, is it?’

‘Thank you. That would really help me at the moment. I’d like a decent remembrance for him. I’ve invited Nanny Hetty and Uncle Steven and the rest of the clan. They miss him, you know. I would’ve asked them for the money but Uncle Steven hasn’t worked for years with his bad back and Hetty is on a pension. Both of them have nothing. You have a good job—’

‘Look. I think the service is a good idea but I can’t be there. I’m sorry, Hannah, but I can’t.’ Gina felt a tear begin to seep from the corner of her eye. She couldn’t go through all that with his family again. She wanted to scream, to tell Hannah that Terry’s funeral had been one of the oddest days of her life. She remembered how drunk she’d allowed herself to get during the wake, slowly celebrating his end and drowning her guilt with gallons of wine. No one could explain her odd behaviour that day. It hadn’t stopped bloody Uncle Steven speculating though. She remembered hearing him whispering to another one of his knuckle-dragging relatives. He’d been spreading rumours that she’d been having an affair, that’s why his Terry had to keep a close eye on her. If only that were the truth.

‘You must really hate him,’ Hannah said, her face reddening.

‘It’s not that.’ Her body tensed up. Only once had she considered telling anyone about what had happened, but she never wanted to tell her daughter – grown up or not. After Hannah was born, he’d become so much worse. The supermarket had been one of the only places she was allowed to enter alone. There, she’d seen a stand collecting money for the local women’s refuge. As she passed the money collectors on the way out, she’d hesitated. A woman stopped her and started to talk about the refuge. Gina remembered staring blankly at the woman, then thrusting a pound coin into her hand before scurrying off. The woman chased her out of the shop and pressed a card into her hand. Before she reached Terry’s car at the back of the car park, she let the card slip out of her hand. If he’d caught her with that—

‘There you go again, in your own little world, ignoring me. You can be so unreasonable sometimes. You don’t want this, but what about me? He was my father.’

‘I’m giving you the money, aren’t I? I’ll transfer it now.’ Gina pulled her phone from her pocket. In a matter of seconds, she’d sent six hundred pounds to her daughter. ‘Done.’

Hannah’s face was pink with anger as she grabbed her ponytail and pulled it tight in the bobble. She grabbed Gracie from Gina’s arms and proceeded with putting their coats on. ‘I don’t know what your problem is. We’re off. Maybe you can come and see us, when you have time. Oh wait. I’m busy for the next month or maybe two – or three. That should make it easier to schedule an hour in.’ Gina stood and helped Hannah feed Gracie’s arm into her sleeve. Hannah stepped away. ‘We manage fine without you. Oh, my job’s going well too and Greg’s had a promotion. It’s nice of you to ask.’

‘I was going to. Why don’t you stay? I’ve got some ice cream. We could talk or put some cartoons on—’

‘Another time, when you’re not in such a weird mood,’ Hannah said.

‘Me in a mood? I have my reasons for not wanting to do the things you demand of me, you know.’

Hannah stopped what she was doing and stood in silence, her stare boring into Gina’s eyes. ‘Tell me then.’

Gina opened her mouth to speak but no words escaped. She sneezed and pulled a crumpled tissue from her pocket. She swallowed, aggravating her sandpapery throat.

‘In that case, goodnight. And by the way, thanks for not letting on that you had a cold. You’ve probably given it to us now. And your milk’s off. Wouldn’t be surprised if I’m sick tonight.’ Hannah grabbed her changing bag and left, slamming the door behind her. Gina fell onto the settee and hugged a cushion. Ebony jumped up onto her lap. She hugged the cat and cried into her fur. But even the cat soon tired of her and jumped back down, scurrying into the kitchen and out of the cat flap.

She booted up her laptop and watched it whirring into action. An email pinged up. Jacob had uploaded the report. She read it, trying to absorb all the information, trying to put herself into Mrs McDonald’s mindset, trying to see it as she’d described.

Why couldn’t she tell Hannah? It would make her behaviour so much clearer. Shame still hung over her head like a heavy sack, threatening to cut off her oxygen supply. DI Gina Harte had once been a nobody, had once allowed a man to treat her that way. All the yes, Terrys, no, Terrys, whatever you want Terrys. It’s okay that you’ve broken my ribs, Terry, because you love me. It was my fault. She looked away. If she began to cry, her nose would be even stuffier than it already was. As she felt her ribs again, she thought of Debbie, out there somewhere – where? She grabbed her little laptop mouse and threw it at the fireplace. She knew what she’d gone through was nothing compared to Deborah’s ordeal. She couldn’t fail Debbie again. She’d failed four years ago. No more. She leaned across the floor and picked the mouse back up and placed it next to her laptop.

She walked through to the kitchen and grabbed the half bottle of red that was next to the sour milk in the fridge and began swigging from the bottle. Her phone beeped. Briggs had messaged.

She needed to talk about anything, to anyone. Her stomach flipped as she called him back. He answered after a couple of rings. ‘Gina.’

‘I don’t want to be alone tonight,’ she replied, wiping her tear-stained face.

‘Shall I bring the wine to you then?’

She could play his game too. She ended the call, knowing full well he’d turn up. What the hell was she doing? What were they doing? He was her DCI. She was lonely – no, she was slowly dying inside, being eaten up by the secrets that were invading her new life, secrets she’d tried to bury. She’d bury them tonight, at least, and worry about the consequences another day. She swigged the rest of the wine and stared at the window, waiting for Briggs to pull up, like some desperate schoolgirl hoping her date didn’t let her down. Needy little Gina. Terry had summed her up well.