Ellie looked around. Libby and Sam were on the bench, wide eyed. She darted forward, grabbed a cable from the equipment box then lunged at Jack halfway up the stairs, wrapping the cord around his neck, criss-crossing it over and heaving herself backwards, pushing against the wall with her feet until Jack’s grip on the banister came loose and he fell on top of her. The boat rocked with the force of their landing, Jack’s hands reaching behind his head, scratching at Ellie’s face as she pulled the cable tighter. She held on as his breath shortened, his legs thrashing at the bottom of the stairs, trying to get purchase on anything. He pushed himself into Ellie, sending them both shunting along the floor until Ellie’s head bumped the leg of the table, but she held on, struggling for breath under his weight. Jack’s hands reached for the cord around his neck, pushing his fingers against it, trying to pull it away from the skin, blood pulsing out the wounds in his stomach and neck. But he couldn’t get any relief. Ellie pulled tight, the muscles in her arms burning, her neck taut, every sinew stretched as far as it would go, every ounce of strength in her body used.

Jack stopped struggling and slumped, his head falling back and smacking Ellie in the mouth. She moved her head sideways, spitting his hair from her teeth, gasping, her chest struggling to rise and fall under his weight. She kept tight hold of the ends of the cord, waiting, listening, expecting something, but nothing happened.

She let go of the cable. Heaved air into her lungs. Shoved at Jack’s body, rolled it to the side and began shuffling out from underneath, sliding away from him.

She was covered in blood. She panted, gulping in air, her legs shaking, her body trembling from shock and adrenalin. She looked at the bench. Sam had his arms round Libby, her face buried in his chest. She was sobbing, hands pressed into her lap. Sam was staring at Jack. He turned to Ellie with a look.

Ellie held her hands out in front of her and stared at them. The skin was raw and moist where she’d gripped the cable. Jack’s blood was smeared in the creases and folds of her skin. One palm was sliced by the scissors.

She crawled on her hands and knees over to Jack’s body. Blood was oozing from his collarbone, pooling under his back, his clothes wet from the wounds to his stomach and chest.

Ellie put two fingers to his neck, felt for a pulse. Then she took his wrist, did the same. Waited, trying to regulate her own heart rate. Finally she knelt by his face and put a hand over his mouth and nose, feeling for breath.

She slumped down on her haunches and looked at Sam. Shook her head.

Libby lifted her face out of her brother’s chest and saw Ellie. Ellie looked at the scissors sticking out of Jack’s neck, the cord still digging into the skin around his throat. She put one hand against his shoulder and pulled the scissors out, dropping them on the floor. Blood came bubbling out the wound and down his back. Then Ellie lifted the back of Jack’s head and unwrapped the cable. It was only with the cable in her hand that she realised what it was. The kill cord, for cutting the power to the engine if you fell overboard, so you didn’t get chopped up by the propellers.

Libby was crying, shaking, trying to squirm into Sam’s body. Sam had a glassy look on his face, staring at his dad’s corpse in the middle of the cabin.

‘What do we do now?’ he said.

Ellie wiped her hands on the thighs of her jeans, felt the pain on her palms as she did so. She looked round the cabin, shook her head then pulled her phone out.

32

They waited on deck. It was risky out here, the kids could get recognised, but none of them could stay another moment below with Jack. Libby had been freaking out, hysterical, Sam just staring, so Ellie had shoved caps on their heads and pushed them upstairs and out the cabin. Now the pair of them were hunched in the stern, Ellie pacing up and down the starboard side, pretending to check the rigging, trying to stop her hands shaking as she looked out for him.

And there he was. Ben.

She watched him approach the boat and tried to freeze-frame the moment, imprint it on her memory, the instant before she dragged the man she loved into this shitstorm. Maybe she should still protect him, turn him away, stop him coming on board. She hadn’t told him anything on the phone, just that she needed him straight away. She could force him to turn round right now but the truth was she needed him, she couldn’t do this alone.

She didn’t stop him climbing on board.

He frowned when he saw her face. ‘What’s up?’

She felt herself close to tears.

He looked at Sam and Libby. ‘That’s them?’

Ellie nodded.

He turned to them. ‘Hi.’

They didn’t reply, just nodded. Libby had a wild look on her face. She turned her gaze from Ben to the hatch of the cabin.

Ben spoke to Ellie. ‘I thought you were taking her to the police.’

Ellie shook her head. ‘Something happened.’

She walked towards the hatch.

‘Come on,’ she said, then turned to Sam and Libby. ‘Wait there.’

She took careful steps down the ladder, heard Ben’s footfall behind her. She got to the bottom and moved aside so he could take it in.

Jack was where she’d left him, blood blossomed round his body, draining through the floorboards and gathering in the hull below. His eyes were open, his lips already a little discoloured, skin greying. The blood flowing from the wounds in his neck and stomach had slowed.

‘Holy shit,’ Ben said.

Ellie didn’t look at him, kept her eyes on the corpse.

Ben turned to her. ‘Holy fucking shit, Ellie.’

The boat rocked in the water making them both spread their feet and shift their weight.

Ben rubbed at his head and stared at the body, eyes wide.

‘It was self-defence,’ Ellie said.

‘Is he dead?’

Ellie nodded.

Ben shook his head. ‘Oh shit. Fucking hell, Ellie.’

Ben pulled a hand down his face, scrunched his eyes then opened them. He peered at the wounds on Jack’s body. Part of the stomach a shredded mess, the gaping hole in the neck, livid strangulation marks on the throat.

Ben looked at Ellie. ‘Self-defence? Really?’

Ellie avoided catching his eye. ‘He tried to take Libby away. He was violent.’

‘Who did this?’

Ellie thought. Libby first in the stomach, then Sam in the neck, then her stopping him from leaving.

‘We all did.’

‘Tell me the truth,’ Ben said. ‘It’s me, Ellie.’

‘He attacked Libby. She panicked. She stabbed him in the stomach with scissors. He kept at her. Sam stabbed him in the neck. Then I did the throat.’

Ben shook his head and took a step back from the corpse. ‘This is so fucked up.’

Ellie put a hand out and touched the table in the middle of the room to steady herself. ‘What do we do?’

Ben looked at her, then at Jack, and shook his head. He walked round the body as if it might seem less dead from the other side.

‘Was it really self-defence?’

‘Yes.’

‘Then we go to the police. Tell them everything.’

‘They won’t believe us.’

‘Yes, they will, they’ll have to.’

Ellie nodded at Jack’s body. ‘This doesn’t look like self-defence.’

Ben shook his head. ‘But it was. I believe you.’

Ellie looked at him. ‘The police won’t. A jury won’t.’

Ben shrugged. ‘We have to take that chance.’

‘We can’t do that to Libby and Sam,’ Ellie said. ‘We just can’t. We have to protect them.’

Ben looked out the cabin hatch. ‘What the hell are you saying? Are you suggesting we cover this up?’

He stepped back from Jack’s body and stumbled over the scissors on the floor, recoiled from them. ‘Jesus Christ.’

Ellie looked at her husband.

‘We can do it,’ she said.

Ben stared at her. ‘Have you lost your mind? Think about what you’re saying for a minute.’