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apologise, maybe even have the chat she’d missed at supper. She hurried in, dumping her shoes in the sink in the mud room. She’d felt sickened on the way home by the lingering smell.
    Marjory ran upstairs and tapped on Cat’s door. ‘Hi, darling. Back at last! Sorry about that.’
    There was no response. When she opened the door, the room was in darkness and her daughter was only a hump under the bedclothes, her back to the door.
    She hesitated. She could say, ‘Cat, I know you’re awake,’ and insist they talked. But Cat wasn’t a child any more; she was a young woman about to begin her own life and if this was her decision it ought to be respected. Anyway, Marjory couldn’t think it was likely to prove a constructive conversation.
    She closed the door again. She could understand Cat’s resentment,of course, but if she’d put a family supper ahead of a case that might prove to be murder, her bosses would seriously question her priorities. A woman’s place is in the wrong, Marjory reflected bitterly, as she went to have a long, scented bath to get the stench of the day out of her nostrils.
     
    It was one o’clock in the morning when Jamie started screaming.

I    didn’t       scream

CHAPTER THREE
    ‘What on earth is the matter, Jamie?’ Tony Drummond, startled out of deep sleep, was more annoyed than sympathetic.
    His wife Rosie pushed him aside, giving him a death stare as she hurried to her son. ‘Darling! What’s wrong?’
    Jamie was bolt upright in bed, hair tousled and damp with sweat, mouth square as he uttered scream after scream, his eyes wide and staring. As his father snapped on the light he put up his hand to shield them.
    Rosie, alarmed herself, sat down and took him in her arms, rocking him like a baby. ‘Sssh, sssh! It’s all right, sweetheart, just a bad dream, that’s all.’
    The screaming stopped, but he began to cry shuddering wails.
    ‘He’s getting hysterical,’ Tony said. ‘Jamie! You’ve had a nightmare, you’re awake now. Nothing’s wrong.’
    Rosie looked reproachful at the sharp tone, but the boy’s sobbing died down a little. ‘Tell you what,’ she said soothingly.‘We’ll go downstairs and I’ll make you hot chocolate, with lots of marshmallows. Would that be nice? Come on, then.’
    Jamie, shaking violently, allowed himself to be led towards the stairs, still crying. His father followed them out of the bedroom, then hesitated.
    ‘Er … not much point in us both losing sleep. If you’ve got it covered …’
    ‘Oh –
men
!’ Rosie gave him a withering look, but she didn’t insist.
    Five minutes later Tony was sound asleep. When she woke him again, he was confused. ‘Did the alarm not go?’
    ‘Don’t be silly. It’s half past one. Jamie’s still freaking out, but he won’t tell me why. I need you.’
    At the kitchen table, Jamie had stopped crying but was still shaking uncontrollably. At the sight of his father he bit his lip.
    What was that about? Frowning, Tony drew up a chair beside his son, who wouldn’t meet his eyes.
    ‘OK, Jamie, let’s sort this out. You’d a bad dream, right?’
    The boy nodded.
    ‘Dreams aren’t real, you know that.’
    Another nod.
    ‘Do you want to tell us what it was about?’
    He shook his head violently. Rosie said, ‘I’ve tried. He won’t.’
    ‘Hmm. So there’s something else, is there? What is it?’
    Jamie’s eyes flicked to his father’s face, then away again.
    ‘Something you don’t want to tell us.’ Tony thought for a moment. ‘Is it something you’ve done that you shouldn’t have?’
    The child’s head sank down. His parents looked at each other.
    ‘We promise we won’t be angry, darling,’ Rosie said reassuringly.
    Tony’s reaction was less comforting. ‘Better tell us before we find out. What were you and Craig up to this afternoon?’
    ‘F–fishing,’ Jamie faltered. He began crying again, and then it all spilt out.
    Which was why Tony Drummond was in his boat at