‘I didn’t think it was a big deal.’

  ‘Well it is. I’m supposed to be speaking to Nadia. She had something to tell me about the killings.’

  ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t know.’

  ‘You didn’t bother to find out.’

  ‘Why didn’t you call? I would have left.’

  ‘I did. You didn’t answer.’

  He clapped his hand to his forehead. It was almost comical. ‘Shit. I left my phone in the car.’

  ‘Great. Well done, Tom.’

  ‘And it’s still there. I had to park two streets away. I’m sorry, Alice.’

  ‘Never mind.’ She grabbed her keys and phone. ‘Your turn.’

  Tom

  He dipped his hand in the bath. It was cooler than he would normally have had it, but he was going to share it with Jo. Instead of bathing her and putting her to bed, then going down to eat dinner, he was going to take a bath with his daughter, put her down, and go straight to sleep himself.

  No dinner, no TV, no work, no doom-scrolling his phone.

  All he wanted – the only thing he could think about – was closing his eyes and going to sleep. Whatever else he had learned, he knew this: early-evening beers were only going to have one effect on him, and that was to make him even more tired.

  He took off his clothes and picked Jo up, then sat in the bath, holding her upright in the space between his legs. She grabbed a fistful of water and watched it trickle out of her fingers, then laughed and did it again.

  He scooped up some water and ran it over her back, gently massaging her shoulders. He took some more and cleaned her head, feeling the soft hair and smooth skin.

  ‘You’re beautiful,’ he said, and touched her nose with the tip of his forefinger. ‘You’re my beautiful girl and I love you.’

  She grabbed his finger and squeezed and he shook her hand about. She freed it, and with both arms, started splashing as hard as she could. Droplets flew around, landing on his face and running down his cheeks. She giggled, and he laughed with her.

  After a while she stopped and he lifted her onto his chest. She lay with her head sideways, and his eyes started to close.

  He let them shut for a blissful second, then forced them open. It was hard to keep them that way and they flickered shut. He felt himself slip towards sleep.

  Just a minute, he thought. I’ll close them for two minutes. I won’t go to sleep, but a few minutes can’t hurt …

  Alice

  ‘Sorry I’m late,’ Alice said. ‘Tom was at the pub.’

  ‘He was?’ Nadia said. ‘Good for him!’

  ‘He should have been back on time, though.’

  ‘No problem. We’re working late these days.’

  ‘So,’ Alice said. ‘You mentioned there might be an update?’

  ‘Not really,’ Nadia said.

  ‘Do you have any leads? Any suspects?’

  ‘I can’t say, Alice, you know that.’

  ‘I know, but if you did have one – well, if the killer saw it in the news they might start to get worried. Slip up somehow, or even stop.’

  ‘There’s not much,’ Nadia said. ‘That’s all I can tell you.’

  ‘Can I quote that?’

  ‘Not unless you want my boss to kick me down to playground duty,’ Nadia said.

  Upstairs she heard the sound of splashing and laughter. It must be bath time.

  ‘Who’s your boss?’ Alice said.

  ‘Detective Inspector Jane Wynne.’

  Alice remembered her from the press conference. She was quiet and unassuming, but her eyes were quick and intelligent.

  ‘Can I talk to her?’

  ‘I don’t know. I can ask.’

  ‘That would be great,’ Alice said. ‘So what’s the reason for the call? I don’t need much – something about a new lead, or an avenue of enquiry. But something.’

  ‘There’s the question of the victims being men and women,’ Nadia said.

  ‘What does that mean?’

  ‘We’re not sure. But it could mean something. A different kind of killer, maybe. Some are motivated by sex or revenge or hatred of prostitutes, but this one – well, maybe they just like killing.’

  ‘Which would make them hard to catch,’ Alice said. ‘Because there’s no pattern. And if everyone’s a potential victim then it’s all the more terrifying.’

  ‘That’s the thinking,’ Nadia said. ‘How’s everything else?’

  ‘It’s’ – she paused – ‘OK.’

  ‘Only OK?’

  ‘Things have been a bit strained with Tom.’

  ‘That’s normal enough. You’ve both been under a lot of stress.’

  ‘I know. But he seems more than stressed. He’s been erratic. Snappy.’

  ‘I’m sure you’ll get through it.’

  ‘I think so. But it’s tough. He’s in the bath with Jo now.’

  ‘OK. Well, I’ll get back to you about DI Wynne.’

  She ended the call and Alice put her phone down. Another evening of a rushed dinner and a broken night’s sleep lay ahead of her. There wasn’t even any food in the fridge, unless Tom had brought some back.

  ‘Tom,’ she called, quietly. There was no answer. She didn’t want to shout; all was silent upstairs and she didn’t want to disturb the peace. It was better to go up to talk to him.

  He was not in Jo’s room, or their bedroom, but she hadn’t heard him come downstairs, so they were up there somewhere.

  Which only left the bathroom, but the splashing sounds had all gone quiet.

  She pictured him when he came in from the pub, bleary-eyed and exhausted. She pictured him, lying in the warm bath, his eyes slowly closing …

  Tom

  He was woken by a scream, then a shout of Jo! and the sensation of water lapping over his chest. He opened his eyes. Alice was standing over him, Jo naked and wet in her arms.

  ‘Tom!’ she shouted. ‘What the hell are you doing?’

  It took him a few seconds to wake up and remember where he was, and then he realized what he had done.

  He’d fallen asleep in the bath. He’d thought he could just close his eyes for a moment, that he’d have a quick rest and then put Jo to bed, before calling it a night himself.

  But he hadn’t woken up. He’d lain there, fast asleep, with his daughter on his chest, unable to sit up or extricate herself if her mouth and nose slipped below the surface.

  ‘Oh God,’ he said. ‘Oh God. Jo? Is she OK?’

  Alice held her to her chest. ‘She’s fine.’ She closed her eyes. ‘But she was nearly under water, Tom. She’d slipped down your shoulder and the corner of her mouth was in the bath. ‘She could have’ – she held her hand to her mouth – ‘I don’t even want to say it.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Alice,’ he said. ‘I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to go to sleep. I was tired and—’

  She shook her head. ‘No, Tom. Now’s not the time. But this is not the kind of thing that can happen. You fell asleep in the bath with our baby. Do you not understand anything about being a parent?’

  He didn’t reply. There was no point. There was nothing he could say that would make any difference.

  Alice walked out of the bathroom and he sank into the water. It was cold now, and an image came to him of him asleep, his head lolling against the side of the bath, with Jo face down beside him.

  His eyes flew open and his skin crawled in horror. For a moment he considered lying down in the bath and letting himself slip under the surface, letting the water fill his mouth and nose and lungs. At least it meant he would not have to have that image intrude on his thoughts again.

  What kind of a father was he? The kind who had a beer too many – and clearly even one was too many at the moment – and put his kid at risk? No, he was not. That was Roland, and he was not Roland.

  And yet, here he was. An inch or two different and he would be a cautionary tale – There was this dad who was super tired and he went for a drink after work and when he got home he had a bath with his baby …

  He shuddered again at the thought of what could have happened. It was almost as though, for an instant, it had happened, and he had a fleeting experience of what it would have felt like: a visceral, whole-body experience of intense pain.

  It would pass, he knew, this feeling. But the lesson would be learned.

  He climbed out of the bath and grabbed a towel. Alice was in Jo’s room, bent over her crib, soothing her to sleep.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I really am.’

  She glanced up, her eyes hard. ‘Good.’

  ‘I think I’m going to go to bed. When she wakes, I’ll get up with her. OK?’

  Alice barely acknowledged him. ‘Have a good sleep.’

  Alice

  Kay was probably her closest friend. They had met at the swimming pool when she first moved here. Alice was halfway through her swim when Kay appeared at the end of her lane and asked if she could share it.

  Sure, Alice said.

  Left or right?

  I don’t mind, Alice said. If you have a preference, go ahead.

  I prefer the right, Kay said.

  Why, Alice didn’t know, because it didn’t seem to make any difference, because whatever Kay lacked in technique – and she lacked more or less everything – she made up for in enthusiasm. It was like swimming next to a slow-moving whirlpool, the swirling currents constantly buffeting her.

  At some point, they found themselves at the same end.

  You’re really good, Kay said.

  Not really. I used to swim a bit.

  Better than me. Honestly, tell me what you think?

  Of what?

  Of my swimming.

  There are some positive aspects, Alice said. You move a lot of water around.

  Is that good?

  Yeah – you just want to move it all in the same direction. Ideally behind you.

  What do I do?

  You move quite a bit of it in quite a few directions.

  Damn, Kay said. Is that why I’m so slow, even though I’m trying my hardest?

  I think it could be part of the explanation.

  They had seen each other a few more times in the pool, then Kay had suggested meeting for a drink. She was bright-eyed and fun-loving and the most opinionated person Alice had ever known. She had an opinion on every topic and an answer for every question, and never failed to offer detailed advice.

  She called her and held the phone to her ear.

  ‘Hey,’ Kay said. ‘How’s it going?’

  ‘Good,’ Alice said. ‘Kind of.’

  ‘Only kind of? Still not getting any sleep?’

  ‘Barely a wink. And I think it’s getting to Tom.’

  ‘No doubt it is. Tough times.’

  ‘It’s more than that, and I’m worried, Kay.’

  ‘Oh?’ Kay said. ‘In what way?’

  ‘He’s moody. And a bit withdrawn.’

  Kay laughed. ‘If a man being moody and withdrawn was something to worry about we’d all be in a state of constant anxiety.’

  ‘It’s not only that. He’s been snapping at me.’

  ‘He’s tired,’ Kay said. ‘It’s a stressful time.’

  ‘That’s what I thought,’ Alice said. ‘But I’m worried it runs deeper. I’m worried he’s depressed.’

  There was a moment of silence.

  ‘Did something happen?’ Kay said. ‘Did he do something to you?’

  ‘No,’ Alice said. ‘Not to me. Not to anyone. At least, I don’t think so.’

  ‘I don’t like that “I don’t think so”,’ Kay said. ‘What’s going on, Alice?’

  ‘Jo had a bruise,’ she said. ‘On her arm. The doctor saw it and I could tell she was concerned. It’s not the kind of thing that could appear from nowhere.’

  ‘You think it was Tom?’

  ‘There’s only so many people it could be. Tom’s mum, Martha. Tom’s brother Roland. I didn’t include Tom on the list initially—’

  ‘Initially?’ Kay said.

  ‘Until just now.’

  ‘Why just now?’

  Alice took a deep breath. ‘You have to keep this to yourself, Kay.’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘You have to promise.’

  ‘Cross my heart and hope to die.’

  ‘He had a bath with Jo earlier. I was on the phone but I could hear them splashing around. After a while I realized everything was quiet, so went up to check, and he was asleep in the bath. Jo was on his chest, but she’d slipped down and her face was near the water.’

  ‘Oh God!’ Kay said. ‘Is she OK?’

  ‘Yes. But she might not have been.’

  ‘That’s pretty bad,’ Kay said. ‘But it sounds like he made a mistake. That’s all.’

  ‘That’s what worries me,’ Alice said. ‘With the way he’s been recently – the way he seems to hate me and resent Jo – I got the impression – just an idea, really – that it may have been deliberate.’

  ‘Deliberate?’

  ‘It’s hard to even say it. But it was almost as if – as if he wanted to – that he was planning to drown them both.’

  ‘No,’ Kay said. ‘Not Tom.’

  ‘I know. It sounds crazy. I don’t like to think it, let alone say it. But I can’t ignore what happened, Kay.’

  ‘Listen,’ Kay said. ‘I’m sure this is a temporary phase he’s going through, because of the stress you’re both under. You mustn’t overreact. Have you talked to anyone else about it?’

  ‘No, only you.’

  ‘You could talk to a professional.’

  ‘What if they did something?’

  ‘Like what?’

  ‘Took Jo away?’

  ‘No,’ Kay said. ‘That won’t happen.’

  ‘This is such a mess,’ Alice said. ‘I don’t know what to do.’

  ‘Don’t panic,’ Kay said. ‘That’s the main thing. And nothing bad has happened yet.’

  ‘Yet,’ Alice said. ‘But it wasn’t far off tonight. How can I leave her with him after that?’

  PART TWO

  The Baby

  You hate this thing. It is shocking to you how much.

  How much you want to dismember it. Take it to pieces and break it forever. You cannot help but see it as an automaton. A clockwork device designed to irritate you. It has no soul. No inner life. No value.

  But you cannot do that. However pleasurable it would be, it would bring more problems. So you must content yourself with pinches and prods with a sharp finger.

  You have rarely hated anything as much. Your parents, maybe. Your interfering parents, always trying to save you from yourself.

  It wasn’t the interference you hated. It was the idea that they thought you needed saving.

  Saving from what? A future in which you became like them? Tiny little people living tiny little lives like everyone else?

  No – you have seen more. You have tasted what life can be, and you cannot – will not – be denied it.

  You look at the baby. It smiles.

  You laugh.

  That will not work on you.

  You grab its fat little thigh. It will not be smiling for much longer.

  Carrie Sanchez

  She’d heard about the serial killer, of course she had, and her mum would give her so much shit if she knew she was walking home alone, but what were the odds she’d be attacked really? Not very high, but just in case, she walked quickly and stuck to well-lit streets, even if it made the walk that bit longer.

  And the alternative would have been to stay with Mike, which she was not going to do. She was sick of him, sick of his stupid jokes about her appearance – about her weight, specifically – and sick of him shrugging her off when she asked him to stop.

  Don’t be so sensitive, he’d said, when they got back to his flat from the pub, it was a joke.

  I’m not being sensitive! she shouted. It hurts my feelings!

  Exactly my point. You’re letting your feelings get hurt over nothing. That’s the definition of over-sensitive. You should be more like me. Have no feelings.

  She knew he had feelings, everyone did, but sometimes she wondered. He could be so mean. Even if it was a joke, it was still unpleasant to be the person everyone was laughing at.

  The first few times he’d mentioned her weight – comments like Good job I like something to hold on to in bed or Just like me to end up with a salad dodger for a girlfriend – she’d wondered whether she was being over-sensitive, but after tonight she knew she wasn’t.

  They’d moved in together a month before, and earlier at the pub, Carol, the fiancée of his best friend, Paul, had asked how it was going.

  Lovely, Carrie had replied, and smiled at Mike. We’re like an old married couple!

  Yeah, Mike said. It’s great. Only thing is Carrie’s eaten all my pies. I had a year’s worth of Fray Bentos in, and she’s scoffed the lot.

  His friends – the male ones – laughed, of course they did, while their girlfriends gave her little looks of sympathy. She’d felt herself blush, and headed for the loos. As she left the table, she heard Mike tut, and say Bloody hell, there she goes. Can’t take a joke.

  Well, it wasn’t a joke, and she wasn’t taking it any more.

  You do have feelings, and you hurt mine. Anyway, this isn’t about me or my feelings, it’s about what you did. There’s a name for it, Mike.

  Yeah, he said. Joking.

  No, she replied. Fat-shaming.

  He burst into a fit of laughter.

  Give over, he said. Fat-shaming. What a load of bollocks.

  It’s not, she said. It’s real. And it’s what you’re doing.

  He shrugged. If you say so. And you are a bit porky, Carrie. But like I said. I’m a fan of the larger lady.

  That was when she left. She could have called a cab but she didn’t want to stay there a second longer. She didn’t care about serial killers. It wouldn’t happen to her.

  And if it did it would serve him right.

  She turned into her parents’ street and relaxed. They lived at the end in a large house. All the houses on the street were set back from the road at the end of long driveways. She walked past Neil and Shannon’s place – they had moved in a few years back and she had babysat their kids – and then Mr Morrison’s, a widower she had known all her life.