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finally let him go at two in the morning.
    ‘You’re lucky,’ said the investigator. ‘He doesn’t have any family so no one’s likely to complain.’
    In the dark, his duvet wrapped around him, shivering uncontrollably, Jack didn’t feel bloody lucky.

Chapter Three

    Snow White came from a long line of brave soldiers.
    Grandpa had fought in the Second World War and Father had worked bomb disposal in Northern Ireland for over ten years. Taking difficult, often unpalatable, decisions was in her blood.
    By her father’s sixth posting and her corresponding move to the sixth different school she had stopped blubbing and discovered that a swift smack in the mouth made the loudest of tormentors keep their distance. Her transition to boarding school had been softened by this knowledge.
    Whenever one of Daddy’s platoon was blown to smithereens he would get as pissed as fart and sing at the top of his voice: ‘No surrender, no surrender, no surrender to the IRA.’ He’d go back to work the next day nursing a sore head and throat, and a new man would be learning the ropes.
    She turned on the local radio station and went on to the Internet. The home page told her that a singer, whose head reminded her of a round sweaty cheese, had overdosed on drugs, a wildly talented footballer had been found in bed with an eleven-year-old boy, and the Chancellor was warning of another hike in interest rates.
    The Manor Park shooting had not made the headlines. In fact, Snow White could find no mention of it anywhere. It had been well and truly hushed up.
    No doubt it was better for all involved if matters remained as they were. Questions from the press would only be painful and intrusive for the parents involved.
    She logged on to her favourite site and started a new post.
Asylum Seekers Gun Down Children Snow White at 8.10
Yes, you heard correctly.
Yesterday afternoon, two asylum seekers armed themselves and shot at pupils at Manor Park Preparatory School in Hertfordshire.

    She sat back and waited for the thread to start buzzing. Sometimes, for the greater good, difficult decisions had to be made.
    The noise was overwhelming. At least fifty clients, solicitors and barristers were crammed into the narrow corridor, and every single one of them seemed to be shouting. Lilly grimaced and searched for a clear space to devour the sandwich that was burning a hole in her pocket.
    Only the prayer room was free.
    ‘Figures,’ she muttered, and slipped inside.
    She pushed the Qur’an to one side and laid out her bacon butty. She wished now that she’d gone for cheese, but hunger dispelled her guilt. She opened her mouth for the first salty bite when the door opened.
    ‘Are you looking for Jesus?’ asked Jack.
    ‘I think the poor man’s got enough on without Luton County Court.’
    Jack looked old and sad and tired.
    ‘Jesus, I’m starving,’ he said.
    ‘If you think I’m sharing you’re hoping for a miracle,’ she replied. ‘And the man in that line of business is out.’
    ‘You’re a heartless woman.’
    She looked from Jack to the sandwich and back again and split it in half. ‘This is a true mark of our friendship.’
    They chewed in silence until Jack wiped his hands on his jeans.
    ‘Everything okay?’
    ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘You?’
    ‘Been better,’ he answered.
    She touched his thumb with her own. ‘You had no choice, Jack.’
    He nodded. ‘Doesn’t make it any easier, though, does it?’
    ‘He was out of control,’ she said. ‘Anyone could see that.’
    He gave a doubtful shrug.
    ‘Seriously, Jack, I was bloody terrified.’
    They sat in silence while Lilly racked her brain for something positive to say. How did you make someone who had just killed a child feel any better about themselves?
    ‘At least the press haven’t got wind of it,’ she said.
    ‘And how long do you think that will last?’
    ‘They can’t criticise you, Jack,’ she said.
    He shrugged. She understood Jack well enough to know he