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Tristan answers his phone. ‘Hi,’ he says, watching us. He nods and uh-huhs. ‘Great. Good work. But you need to make sure there aren’t any more copies. No – no, don’t worry, I’ll deal with them. I know.’

He slides the phone away, though I didn’t see him hang up. He smiles at us all. ‘We found them,’ he says.

Lydia’s face goes pure white. ‘Who? Who found who?’

‘Jenna’s alive?’ I feel as though I’m on a very high ledge.

He nods. ‘She’s just fine.’ He gives me a pat, but it makes me flinch.

‘She was with Georgia?’ I ask.

He nods. ‘Of course.’

‘Where is she? Who found her?’

Tristan smiles. ‘Please could I have all of your phones?’

I stare at him.

Lydia holds her hands in front of her, begging. ‘Tristan, where is my daughter? Who is she with?’ She seems more distressed than she has since this whole thing began.

‘You’re okay,’ says Tristan. ‘They’re with Theo.’

And then I’m falling. ‘The man you’ve been helping groom my daughter?’

He rolls his eyes. ‘This is good news. They’re safe.’

I run at him, not quite sure what I’m going to do, wanting to scratch and tear and bite, but he catches my wrists easily.

He shakes his head, disgusted, confused. ‘Phones, please,’ he says. There’s a little glint in his eye and I have to wonder if part of him is enjoying this: the drama, the violence.

‘You don’t have a heart, do you?’ I say.

‘I’m trying to protect my family,’ he says, and I realise that in a way that’s true. My heart hurts. I want to erase the last two days. I want to believe in the myth of Tristan again.

‘Call him back,’ says Lydia. ‘I want to speak to Rose.’

‘He didn’t hang up,’ I say.

‘Good observation, Frances.’ Theo’s tinny voice comes from Tristan’s pocket. ‘I’m so sorry about this, but we’re going to have to insist that you hand over your phones.’

I frown. ‘I don’t have my phone.’

Tristan pulls a sad face at me. ‘Frankie, please.’

‘The text said not to bring them,’ says Lydia.

‘And the only one apart from me smart enough to ignore that was my beautiful wife?’

‘My phone is in my car,’ I say, holding his gaze, a chill running down my back.

‘You aren’t having my phone,’ says Mina.

He gives me a tight smile then steps over to his wife.

Ash and Ava slide closer together in front of her.

‘Stop this,’ Tristan says to them. And then he does something I’ve seen my father do a thousand times to my mother. Her reaches between the twins and takes Mina’s chin in his thumb and forefinger, tilting her head up slightly. ‘My dear, let’s not play games now. Not in front of the children.’

Ash wriggles away and starts pacing in front of the open window. Ava shifts directly between her mother and father. My heart breaks for her.

I was that girl once, staring my father in the eye, wondering how long I could hold up my invisible shield.

Mina watches Tristan, unblinking, and I wonder how many times he has held her like this. I think of her crying in the kitchen, what seems like a lifetime ago. Maybe if we weren’t here, things would change? But my brother is who he is and always has been.

I look around the bedroom for something to hit Tristan with, but I couldn’t kill him. How hard do you have to hit someone to just knock them out?

Behind us, Ash laughs. ‘Don’t you get it, Mum? Aunty Fran? He’s saying if you don’t hand over your phones, Theo’s going to do something to Jenna and Rose.’

Tristan colours. ‘I didn’t say that.’

‘You don’t have to say it, though, do you? And then, afterwards, you can pretend it isn’t what you meant. But it is.’

‘I’m doing this for you,’ says Tristan.

Ash shakes his head. He’s smiling, and I suddenly notice that he’s got one bare foot.

Tristan stares at his son, the muscles in his cheeks rippling as he clenches his teeth. ‘Where’s your shoe?’

Ash shrugs.

Tristan stalks over and grabs Ash by the shoulders. ‘What have you done?’

Ash holds still. I see Mina sliding her hand over her pocket. It hits nothing and I realise she doesn’t have her phone any more.

I glance out at the lawn we all used to play on – Frisbee, badminton, cricket – grown long, dense brambles eating in at the far end. I step forward and then see it: Ash’s shoe, and I can bet inside is his mother’s phone.

But that’s only any good if it gets picked up by the police before Tristan.

Did Ash think to dial 999 before he tossed it?

Tristan lunges past me, down the corridor, and roars as he pulls and pulls on the locked annexe door.