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‘Well,’ Megan considered, archly, ‘it was either rescue him or kill you. Decisions, decisions.’

‘You cow.’

Megan smiled coldly and gave a sigh. ‘As last words go, it’s not very memorable, is it?’

‘Maybe not. But as – Alexander, grab her!’

Megan whirled, only to discover no one there. And as she turned back to Ace, the camping kettle smacked her across the side of her face. The bruised side. With a howl she dropped the gun and clapped her hands to her head. Ace glanced at the pistol, lying at Megan’s feet and hesitated for a moment. But if Megan saw her going for it, she’d forget about her face pretty damn quickly. Instead, she turned and began to sprint up the hill towards the ridge.

Joyce and Michael stood, shivering slightly in the cool evening air, waiting for someone to answer the door. She could hear noises, anxious voices inside, and through the frosted glass she saw vague movements.

‘This is ridiculous,’ Michael said, trying the door handle. It was locked. He stepped back outside the porch and looked up at the windows. ‘Wait here while I try round the back.’

Before Joyce could argue, Michael had stomped off around the side of the building. As she waited anxiously for someone to answer the door, her thoughts returned to what she was going to do about Michael. She’d have to tell Terrance, of course. And he’d be angry. Disappointed, too, she supposed. But angry mainly. If Michael hadn’t wanted to stay in UNIT, why couldn’t he have said something to her; talked it through with her, before deciding to leave, to run away. More than anything, she supposed, Terrance would be angry that Michael had done it this way. Suddenly, she heard the rattling of bolts and locks. The door was jerked open by a young black girl. Claudette, wasn’t it? She looked flustered, confused to see her.

‘I’ve come to see my mother,’ Joyce said, perhaps a little more primly than she intended, and stepped into the hallway before waiting to be invited. Claudette moved hurriedly aside.

‘Er, yeah. Fine. Could you wait in the –’

‘No, I could not.’

And with that, she pushed past the dumbfounded Claudette and stormed up the stairs like an angry tornado, almost colliding with an elderly man coming out of his room. She didn’t even bother to apologise as she swept on along the corridor in the direction of her mother’s room. The door was ajar, and for one, cold moment, Joyce expected to find her mother gone again. But she was there, sitting up in bed reading a copy of Woman’s Realm, with the cover model mysteriously cut out. She looked up as Joyce came in.

‘Come on, Mum,’ Joyce said, crossing straight to the dressing table and hunting round for her mother’s toilet bag.’We’re getting you out of here.’

‘You most certainly are not!’ she replied indignantly.

Joyce whirled round. ‘Mum, don’t start, please. Just get out of bed and get dressed.’

‘Mum? What are you talking about? Who are you? What are you doing in my room? Get out!’

‘Mum,’ she implored, crossing to her side and trying to take her hands. Why did this have to happen now, just when she needed her to be OK, to be normal? Norma pulled her hands away, drawing back from Joyce with a horrified look on her face.

She reached for the buzzer at the side of the bed. Joyce tried to stop her, but she was stronger than she’d expected and managed to stab at it a couple of times, shrieking and wailing for Joyce to get off her.

Oh God, thought Joyce, suddenly feeling close to tears -but closer, much closer, to slapping her. With a sudden burst of terrifying, irrational anger, she wanted to grab the old woman’s shoulders and shake her and shake her and shake her...

She stared at her mother, a thin, frightened woman in a blue bedjacket, something cruel and mocking behind those eyes. She turned away from her and in one huge, extravagant movement swept everything off the dressing table onto the floor with a crash and a shattering of glass and china.

‘Alf! Alf!’ Norma was shouting, jabbing at the buzzer.

‘Alf’s dead, Mum. He’s dead!’ she rounded on her.

‘That’s an evil, wicked thing to say,’ she replied,