‘Of course not,’ she stuttered.

‘I’m really grateful. I know you wanted to get the kids.’

She rested her hand on his briefly. ‘It’s fine. Let’s get it over with.’

They walked up the path, and Ed paused, as if checking what he was wearing, then knocked sharply on the front door. They glanced at each other, smiled awkwardly, and waited. And waited some more.

After about thirty seconds, he knocked again, louder this time. And then he crouched to peer through the letterbox.

He straightened up and reached for his phone. ‘Odd. I’m sure Gem said the lunch was today. Let me check.’ He flicked through some messages, nodded, confirming it, then knocked again.

‘I’m pretty sure if anyone was there they would have heard,’ Jess said. The thought occurred, in passing, that it would be quite nice just for once to walk up to a house and have a clue what was happening on the other side of the door.

They started at the stuttering sound of a sash window being raised above their heads. Ed took a step back and peered up at next door.

‘Is that you, Ed?’

‘Hi, Mrs Harris. I’m after my parents. Any idea where they are?’

The woman grimaced. ‘Oh, Ed dear, they’ve gone to the hospital. I’m afraid your father took ill again early this morning.’

Ed put his hand up to his eyes. ‘Which hospital?’

She hesitated, as if she couldn’t believe he didn’t know.

‘The Royal, dear. It’s about four miles away if you head for the dual carriageway. You want to go left at the end of the road …’

He was already stepping away. ‘It’s okay, Mrs Harris. I know where it is. Thank you.’

‘Give him our best,’ she called, and Jess heard the window being pulled down. Ed was already opening the car door.

They reached the hospital in a matter of minutes. Jess didn’t speak. She had no idea what to say. At one point she ventured, ‘Well, at least they’ll be glad to see you,’ but it was a stupid thing to say and he was so deep in thought that he didn’t seem to hear. He gave his father’s name at the information desk and they traced him to Victoria Ward. ‘You know where Oncology is, yes?’ the receptionist added helpfully, looking up from her screen. Ed flinched visibly at the word.

They entered a steel lift and travelled up two floors. The doors opened, and the sign for the ward was in front of them. Ed gave his name on the intercom, cleaned his hands with the antibacterial lotion by the door and, when the doors finally clicked open, she followed him through.

A woman walked down the hospital corridor towards them. She was wearing a felt skirt and coloured tights. Her hair was cut in the short feathery style that women use when they insist they’re too busy to worry about their hair.

‘Hey, Gem,’ he said, slowing as she drew near.

She looked at him, disbelieving. Her jaw dropped and for a moment Jess thought she was going to say something.

‘It’s good to s–’ he began. From nowhere, the woman’s hand shot out and she smacked him hard. The sound actually echoed down the corridor.

Ed staggered backwards, clutching his cheek. ‘What the –’

‘You fucking wanker,’ she said. ‘You fucking, fucking wanker.’

The two of them stared at each other, Ed lowering his hand as if to check for blood. Her jaw was clenched, as if she were waiting for him to say something, do something, but he did nothing.

She shook her hand then, staring at it as if she had surprised herself, and then after a moment, she held it gingerly towards Jess. ‘Hello, I’m Gemma,’ she said.

Jess hesitated, then shook it carefully. ‘Um … Jess.’

She frowned. ‘The one with a child in need of urgent help.’

When Jess nodded, she looked her up and down slowly. Her smile was weary, rather than unfriendly. ‘Yes, I rather thought you might be. Right. Mum’s down the end, Ed. You’d better come and say hello.’

‘Is he here? Is it Ed?’ The woman’s hair was gunmetal grey, pinned up in a neat twist. ‘Oh, Ed! It is you. Oh, darling. How lovely. But what have you done to yourself?’

He hugged her, then pulled back, ducking his face when she tried to touch his nose, and giving Jess the swiftest sideways look. ‘I … I walked into a door.’

She pulled him close again, patting his back. ‘Oh, it is so good to see you.’

He let her hold him for a few minutes, then gently disentangled himself. ‘Mum, this is Jess.’

‘I’m … Ed’s friend.’

‘Well, how lovely to meet you. I’m Anne.’ Her gaze travelled briefly over Jess’s face, taking in her bruised nose, the faint swelling on her lip. She hesitated just a moment, then perhaps decided not to ask. ‘I’m afraid I can’t say Ed’s told me an awful lot about you but he never does tell me an awful lot about anything, so I’m very much looking forward to hearing it from you.’ She put her hand on Ed’s arm and her smile wavered a little. ‘We did have a rather nice lunch planned but …’

Gemma took a step closer to her mother and began rummaging around in her handbag. ‘But Dad was taken ill again.’

‘He was so looking forward to this lunch. We had to put Simon and Deirdre off. They were just setting out from the Peak District.’

‘I’m sorry,’ Jess said.

‘Yes. Well. Nothing to be done.’ She seemed to pull herself together. ‘You know, it really is the most revolting disease. I have to work quite hard not to take it all personally.’ She leant into Jess with a rueful smile. ‘Sometimes I go into our bedroom and I call it the most dreadful names. Bob would be horrified.’

Jess smiled at her. ‘I’ll give it a few from me, if you like.’

‘Oh, please do! That would be wonderful. The filthier the better. And loud. It has to be loud.’

‘Jess can do loud,’ Ed said, dabbing at his lip.

There was a short silence.

‘I bought a whole salmon,’ Anne said, to nobody in particular.

Jess could feel Gemma studying her. Unconsciously she pulled at her T-shirt, not wanting her tattoo to show above her jeans. The very words ‘social worker’ always made her feel scrutinized, as if the woman had already worked out where Jess came from and was assessing her.

And then Anne had moved past and was holding out her arms. The hungry way she pulled Ed to her again made Jess wince a little. ‘Oh, darling. Darling boy. I know I’m being a terrible clingy mum but do indulge me. It really is so lovely to see you.’ He hugged her back, his eyes raising to Jess’s briefly, guiltily.

‘My mother last hugged me in 1997,’ murmured Gemma. Jess wasn’t sure she was aware that she had said it out loud.

‘I’m not sure mine ever did,’ Jess said.

Gemma looked at her as if she’d forgotten she was there. ‘Um … about the whole whacking-my-brother thing. He’s probably told you what I do for a living. I just feel obliged to stress that I don’t usually hit people.’

‘I don’t think brothers count.’

There was a sudden flicker of warmth behind Gemma’s eyes. ‘That’s a very sensible rule.’

‘No problem,’ Jess said. ‘Anyway, I’ve wanted to do it quite often myself over the past few days.’

Bob Nicholls lay in a hospital bed, a blanket up to his chin and his hands resting gently on its surface. It was clear from the pallor of his skin and the way the bones of his skull were almost visible that he was not a well man. His breathing was laboured and his head swivelled slowly towards the door as they entered. An oxygen mask sat on a bedside table, and two faint indents on his cheek told of its recent use. He was painful to look at.

‘Hey, Dad.’

Jess watched Ed struggle to hide his shock. He stooped towards him and hesitated, before touching his father lightly on the shoulder.

‘Edward.’ His voice was a croak, but there was still something weighty within it.

‘Doesn’t he look well, Bob?’ said his mother.

His father studied him from under shadowed lids. When he spoke, it was slowly, and with deliberation, as if he had an allotted number of words to use.

‘No. He looks like someone beat the living daylights out of him.’

Jess could see the new colour on Ed’s cheekbone where his sister had hit him. She found herself reaching unconsciously towards her injured lip.

‘Where’s he been, anyway?’

‘Dad, this is Jess.’

His father’s eyes slid towards her. His eyebrow lifted a quarter of an inch. ‘And what the hell happened to your face?’ he whispered to her.

‘I had an argument with a car. My fault.’

‘Is that what happened to him?’

She didn’t blink. ‘Yes.’

He regarded her for a moment longer. ‘You look like trouble,’ he said. ‘Are you trouble?’

Gemma leant forwards. ‘Dad! Jess is Ed’s friend.’

He dismissed her. ‘If there’s one small advantage to having very little time left then surely it’s that I can say whatever I like. She doesn’t look offended. Are you offended? I’m sorry, I’ve forgotten your name. I don’t seem to have any brain cells any more.’

‘Jess. No. I’m not offended.’

He kept staring.

‘And, yes, I probably am trouble,’ she said, holding his gaze.

His smile was slow to arrive, but when it came she could see, fleetingly, how he must have looked before he got ill. ‘Glad to hear it. I always liked girls who were trouble. And this one has been head-down in front of a computer for far too long.’

‘How are you, Dad?’

His father blinked. ‘I’m dying.’

‘We’re all dying, Dad,’ Gemma said.

‘Don’t give me your social-worker sophistry. I am dying uncomfortably rapidly. I have few faculties left, and very little dignity. I will probably not make the end of the cricket season. Does that answer your question?’

‘I’m sorry,’ Ed said quietly. ‘I’m sorry I haven’t been.’

‘You’ve been busy.’

‘About that …’ Ed began. His hands were thrust deep in his pockets. ‘Dad. I need to tell you something. I need to tell you all something.’

Jess stood up hurriedly. ‘Why don’t I go and get us some sandwiches? Leave you to talk.’

Jess could feel Gemma assessing what she knew. ‘I’ll get drinks too. Tea? Coffee?’

Bob Nicholls’s head turned towards her. ‘You’ve only just got here. Stay.’

Her eyes met Ed’s. He gave a tiny shrug, like it was really not going to make any difference.

‘What is it, dear?’ His mother put a hand out to him. ‘Are you all right?’

‘I’m fine. Well. I’m sort of fine. I mean I’m healthy. But …’ He swallowed. ‘No I’m not fine. There’s something I have to tell you.’

‘What?’ Gemma said.

‘Okay.’ He took a deep breath. ‘Well, here it is.’

‘What?’ said Gemma. ‘Jesus, Ed. What?’

‘I’m being investigated for insider trading. I’ve been suspended from my company. Next week I have to go to a police station where I will in all likelihood be charged and I may go to prison.’

To say the room fell silent was an understatement. It was as if someone had come in and sucked out all the available air. Jess thought she might pass out briefly from lack of oxygen.

‘Is this a joke?’ said his mother.

‘No.’

‘I really could go and get some tea,’ Jess said.

Nobody paid her any attention. Ed’s mother sat down slowly on a plastic chair.

‘Insider trading?’ Gemma was the first to speak. ‘This – that’s serious, Ed.’

‘Yeah. I do get that, Gem.’

‘Actual insider trading, like you see on the news?’

‘That’s the one.’

‘He’s got good lawyers,’ Jess said.

Nobody seemed to hear.

‘Expensive ones.’

His mother’s hand had risen halfway to her mouth. She lowered it slowly. ‘I don’t understand. When did this happen?’

‘A month or so ago. The insider-trading bit, anyway.’

‘A month ago? But why didn’t you tell us? We could have helped you.’

‘You couldn’t, Mum. Nobody can help.’

‘But prison? Like a criminal?’ Anne Nicholls had gone quite pale.

‘I think if you’re sent to prison you pretty much are a criminal, Mum.’

‘Well, they’ll have to sort it out. They’ll see that there’s been some kind of mistake, but they’ll sort it out.’

‘No, Mum. I’m not sure it’s going to work out like that.’

There was another long silence.

‘Are you going to be all right?’

‘I’ll be fine, Mum. As Jess said, I have good lawyers. I have resources. They have already established that there was no financial gain for me.’

‘You didn’t even make money out of it?’

‘It was a mistake.’

‘A mistake?’ said Gemma. ‘I don’t get it. How do you do insider trading by mistake?’