Ellie turned off at Sheriffhall and up Old Dalkeith Road as the new Rihanna tune came on. She was so glad Logan was never into her, at least not that he admitted to. Ellie was all for female empowerment and women should be allowed to do whatever the hell they want, but dancing naked for the titillation of others wasn’t her idea of empowerment. Maybe Logan secretly wanked off thinking of Rihanna writhing around, but Ellie hoped not. She didn’t mind the idea of him wanking. She knew other mums would have wrinkled their noses up at the thought, but it was a natural thing for a teenage boy to be doing, it meant he was developing a normal sex drive. She was more worried about what went on in his head. She hadn’t cared one way or the other whether Logan was gay, straight, bi, whatever, the key thing was respect. Show other people respect, and hope that it comes back your way. But it was so hard to teach boys about respect. Women were depicted everywhere as objects or sluts, often by other women, so how do you get through to your son that girls and women were equal in every way? How did you make a boy emotionally literate? It was all a million miles from her strident feminism of the eighties as a young woman.

But having Ben as a dad had helped, a good male role model made all the difference. Ellie saw the reverse in the playground, then later with some of Logan’s friends. Their dads spouted the usual sexist drivel, jokes and slights, unintentional or otherwise, and the boys mimicked them. She was proud to see Logan squirm at some of the comments of his mates. She would’ve been prouder still if he’d spoken out against them but that was asking a lot of a fifteen-year-old boy, drowning in peer pressure, the emotional chaos of hormones and all the rest. She was confident he would grow into a good man.

‘Would’ve’, she corrected herself, not ‘would’.

So much for the radio drowning out her thoughts.

She turned into the ERI’s car park and struggled to find a space. This was where Jack had been brought, and she presumed Sam had come to see him. What was he thinking, coming here after what he’d done?

She strode to reception and gave Jack’s name. The man behind the desk was almost pension age, thick hands, heavy eyebrows and a tremor in his neck that made his head judder. His nametag said George.

‘Are you a relative?’ he said.

Ellie nodded. ‘Sister.’

That seemed to be all he needed.

George punched his stubby fingers at the keys, squinted at the screen.

‘Your brother’s in Ward 107, G.I. general surgery.’

‘G.I.?’

‘Gastro-intestinal.’

‘He’s not in intensive care?’

‘No.’

That meant it wasn’t too serious, he was going to be fine. He would survive and get out of hospital. Then what?

‘Which way?’ Ellie said.

George looked at his watch. ‘You’re a bit early for morning visiting.’

‘Which way?’

George pointed at the floor. There were a dozen different coloured lines painted on it, heading in different directions.

‘Follow the yellow line to the lift, then up one and look for the signs.’

‘Thanks.’

George called after her. ‘They might not let you see him, depends what mood the ward sister is in.’

Follow the yellow brick road, thought Ellie, as she ducked along corridors and round corners. Eventually she found the lift and went up. Came out and followed the signs. By the time she got to Ward 107 she’d lost her bearings completely, had no idea where she was.

She went through the double doors and was spotted by three nurses chatting around the reception desk.

‘I’m here to see Jack McKenna,’ she said.

‘You’re early,’ said the nearest nurse, Gibbs on her breast badge. Judging by her uniform, she was in charge.

‘Just a few minutes,’ Ellie said. ‘I’m his sister, I’ve driven a long way, I came as soon as I heard about the stabbing.’

Gibbs narrowed her eyes and pursed her lips. ‘I think he’s sleeping.’

‘Can I just see him for two minutes?’

Gibbs turned to one of the other nurses. ‘Carol, take this lady to see her brother.’

Carol smiled and got up, waved at Ellie to follow. Past four doors then in to the right, a small room with four beds. The two beds at the window were empty. To Ellie’s right was a woman in her eighties, half wasted away, skin hanging loose from her neck. To her left was Jack.

Ellie turned to Carol. ‘Thanks.’

‘Two minutes,’ Carol said, turning to leave.

Ellie walked over to Jack’s bed. His eyes were closed, he was on a drip and he had the covers pushed down to his waist. His stomach was heavily bandaged, thick layers of wrapping, his body rigid.

Ellie watched his chest rise and fall.

She wondered if Sam had been here. Surely he couldn’t say he was Jack’s son, the nurses must watch the news, they would know he was missing and would report it. Would he have lied to them? What if they recognised him anyway? Maybe he sneaked in. She looked at the door, no police presence. She’d thought maybe there would be an officer on guard, but presumably they didn’t think it was necessary.

She had no idea what she was doing here or what she hoped to achieve. She imagined lifting a pillow from one of the empty beds and pushing it into Jack’s face, picturing a hundred clichéd murders on television and in the movies. Was it really as easy as that?

She crept closer. Jack’s eyes remained closed.

She leaned in and whispered. ‘Can you hear me?’

Nothing.

She thought about the last time she’d seen him, on the kitchen floor in a pool of blood. She wondered if he’d seen her then, could identify her.

‘I said, can you hear me?’

She saw movement under his eyelids and his breathing became less deep. She knew from years as a mum what it looked like when someone was pretending to be asleep.

‘I know you’re awake,’ she said in his ear. ‘I know everything. I know who stabbed you and why.’

Her pulse pounded in her ears as she took a breath.

‘Listen carefully,’ she said. ‘If you implicate Sam in any of this I will expose the kind of man you are. I have evidence. Do you understand? Then I will kill you. I’m a guardian angel to your children, protecting them, and I’ll be watching you every minute of every day.’

His Adam’s apple rose and fell.

‘Do you understand?’

His eyes moved under the lids, he swallowed, his breath came in and out of his nostrils.

‘I will come for you,’ Ellie said, patting his hand. ‘Don’t think I won’t. I have nothing to lose.’

She straightened up and took her hand away, then turned and smiled at the old lady in the other bed, who didn’t seem to see her at all.

On the way out she stopped at the reception desk.

‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘That’s laid my mind to rest, I’ll be back soon to visit.’

Gibbs nodded.

‘Just one thing,’ Ellie said. ‘Has anyone else been to see him this morning?’

Gibbs shook her head. ‘No, why?’

‘Just wondering.’

Ellie walked away, taking her phone out her pocket and dialling Sam’s number again.

18

Ellie was back on the bypass when her phone pinged with a text. She was in the outside lane passing an IKEA lorry as she lifted the phone from the passenger seat and looked at it. Sam. She unlocked the phone and read it.

Back at the boat. Don’t know what to do.

Her stomach fluttered as she glanced up. A Toyota in front of her braked sharply and Ellie did likewise, pushing her foot hard on the pedal. The seat belt cut into her chest as she was pushed forward by her own momentum. She was only a couple of feet from the car in front, her right leg straight, stamping on the brake, when the Toyota’s brake lights went off and it pulled away. The IKEA lorry hammered alongside her, then it edged ahead, its lane clear.

She pulled into the slow lane behind the lorry and set a steady pace fifty feet behind. She still had her phone in her left hand. She texted with her thumb, looking up to the road then back at the screen.