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turned bewildered eyes towards Dad.

Mum’s whole body was shaking, heaving. Her lips clamped together as she struggled to stop herself from retching.

‘Meggie . . .’ Dad’s mask slipped for the first time that evening. He looked so forlorn. He touched Mum’s arm. She spun around and slapped his face so hard, there was a crack as her fingers bent right back.

‘You murdering, lying . . . You promised me there’d never be anything like this. You promised you’d only be involved in the background, in planning. You promised.’

‘I didn’t have any choice. Once you’re in, they’ve got you – and you have to do as you’re told.’

‘You don’t. You could’ve said no. You should’ve said no.’

‘I was protecting you, Meggie. And our sons. I had no choice.’

‘Protecting us from what? From something you inflicted on us in the first place?’ Mum dismissed.

‘Who d’you think I’m doing all this for?’ Dad cried.

‘I know exactly who you’re doing all this for. But she’s dead, Ryan – and murdering innocent people won’t bring her back.’

‘You’ve got it wrong, Meggie.’ Dad shook his head.

‘Have I? I warned you, Ryan. I begged you not to involve Jude in all this.’ Mum cradled her now-limp right hand in her left. One of her fingers was bent back on itself in a definite V-shape.

‘I’m sorry . . .’ Dad began. But if anything that just made things worse.

‘Sorry? Sorry? Say that to the families of all those people you murdered,’ Mum yelled at him. ‘How could you? I can’t bear to look at you.’

Dad straightened up. His eyes flint-like again. The mask was back – with a vengeance. ‘At least now the Crosses will know we mean business.’

‘All those people killed and maimed and that’s all you have to say about it?’ Mum’s voice dropped to a strange hush.

‘They were legitimate targets,’ said Dad.

Mum stared at Dad like she’d never seen him before. Silence. She turned away, wearily. ‘In that case we have nothing more to say to each other. Jude, could you take me to the hospital please? I think I’ve broken one of my fingers.’

‘I’ll take you,’ Dad insisted.

‘I don’t want you anywhere near me. Don’t you ever come near me again,’ Mum hissed. ‘Come on, Jude.’

Jude looked at Dad, unsure of what to do. Dad nodded and turned away. Jude took Mum by her left arm and led her out of the house. Only when the door shut, did Dad let go. Closing his eyes, he wrapped his arms around himself and bent his head, almost like he was praying. Except I knew he couldn’t be because Dad doesn’t believe in God. He began to tremble like Old Man Tony when he’s got the DTs.

‘Dear Lord, please . . .’ Dad began. But then he opened his eyes and saw me watching him. He started with surprise. A second or two passed before I saw recognition on his face. In everything that had happened, I’d been completely forgotten. By everyone.

‘I’ll . . . I’ll just go and see if Jude and Mum n-need my help,’ I stammered.

It wasn’t that I wanted to be with them so much. I just needed to get away, to be somewhere else. Dad didn’t try to stop me. I grabbed my jacket and headed out, shaking as the door shut behind me. The evening air was warm and welcome on my skin. Was I going to try and catch up with Mum or Jude or just run and run and keep going – for ever and ever, amen? I looked left, then right. My conscience made up my mind for me. I followed after Mum and Jude.

fifty-one. Sephy

If only I could stop my mind from spinning. If only I could shut out everyone and everything for just a few hours. Just long enough to get some sleep, so that I could think clearly afterwards. But I couldn’t switch off.

After two fruitless hours of tossing and turning and counting everything from sheep to ring-tailed lemurs, I gave in and sat up, as wide awake as I’d ever been. I glanced at the silver clock on my bedside table – a fourteenth birthday present a few months ago from my father. A present he’d probably never even seen. It was still quite early. I’d gone to bed early, mainly because Mother had insisted, but even the regular beat of the second hand counting away time couldn’t lull me off to sleep tonight.

Thank goodness Mother was OK. She was still packing away her shopping when the explosion went off. Glass from the centre was everywhere, scattered across most of the car park. And Mother was in a mad panic, screaming out my name over and over. The moment she saw me, she rushed towards me and gave me a hug which lifted me right off my feet. But we were OK – which is more than could be said for a lot of poor people still caught inside the Dundale when the bomb went off.

‘We should see if we can help,’ I’d said.

‘No way. We’re leaving now. At once,’ Mother insisted.

And no amount of arguing on my part could change her mind. She wanted to put as much space between us and the Dundale Centre as fast as possible. I wasn’t sure about the wisdom of her driving us home but we’d managed to get back home OK. Mother then insisted on checking me over properly but apart from a bruise on my forehead and a couple of grazes on my knees and hands I was fine – outside.

Inside, I couldn’t get it out of my head that Callum had known about the bomb. He’d probably saved my life. But I almost wished he hadn’t. Almost.

With a sigh I got up and headed downstairs to the kitchen. There had to be something I could do to help me get to sleep. A glass of warm milk perhaps. Mother was in her room and Minnie was away,

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