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very much on his mind. He knew he was treading on sensitive ground.
    ‘I took presents over for the grandson,’ Knox said, casually. ‘Though Siobhan made it pretty clear that she couldn’t wait for me to go. Gary’s gone up to his mother’s for Christmas, but he called in to see me before he went.’
    ‘It’s getting better then.’
    ‘They still both blame me for the split.’
    ‘That’s hardly fair. It was Theresa who left you.’
    ‘She had good reason though, didn’t she? I let her down, let them all down. And let’s face it, this wasn’t the first time.’
    There wasn’t much room for contradiction.
    ‘Theresa didn’t ever want to come here you know. She only had to leave Liverpool because of me.’ A direct consequence of Knox shagging the wife of a senior officer, as Mariner recalled. Paddy came lolloping over and Knox picked up a stick and threw it. ‘Dogs are much simpler,’ he said, ‘all the fun of kids, without the emotional stress.’
    ‘Maybe Anna and I should go for a dog.’
    ‘Nah, kids are great really. You’ll love being a dad.’
    ‘Yeah.’
    After lunch they all went to visit Selina. She’d had the operation the previous day and was still groggy and feeling phantom pains from the missing part of her leg. They kept things light, plenty of jokes about Long John Silver and wooden peg-legs.
    ‘You might have to find yourself another woman,’ she told Knox. ‘I’ll be in with a chance with Paul McCartney now.’ Knox stayed on at the hospital and when Anna looked back down the ward for a final wave, she could see Selina clinging to him.
    The news continued to be dominated by the explosion, but though speculation in the press was rife, no one appeared to be any nearer to knowing who had been responsible, so the rumours continued to flourish. The longer the silence, the harder it was for Mariner to comprehend. It usually took just a few days to pinpoint the source, which meant that this had to be some kind of public interest cover-up. No political or religious group had claimed responsibility, implying that it related to something bigger and the authorities didn’t want to spark a full-blown panic. The less palatable alternative was that there had been some kind of warning and someone, somewhere had cocked up. Not something it would ever be easy to admit to.

    On the eighth day Mariner brought Anna tea and toast in bed as he had done each morning, but today when he came back to the bedroom she was already in the shower.
    ‘The sales are on. I want to go and snap up some bargains,’ she told him when she emerged.
    Mariner felt the now familiar flutter of fear. ‘I don’t think it’s a good idea to go into the city, yet,’ he said, trying to sound casual.
    ‘I wasn’t thinking Birmingham. They’re still clearing everything up, and the security checks are a nightmare. I thought I’d go down to Worcester. I can get you another coat.’ To replace the one that had been discarded among the devastation of St Martin’s.
    ‘I still don’t think it’s wise.’
    ‘Why not? This is a great time to go. Other people are staying away. More chance of making a killing.’ She looked at him. ‘Sorry, poor choice of words.’
    ‘Maybe there’s a good reason people are staying away,’ Mariner said.
    ‘And maybe you’re being slightly overprotective? I can’t spend another day cooped up in here and neither can you. We have to start getting on with our lives again. Aren’t you the one who’s always saying we shouldn’t let these people win?’
    ‘But we don’t know yet if the explosion was the start of a campaign.’
    ‘The press are saying not. But even if it is, I can’t imagine Worcester being at the top of the terrorists’ list.’
    ‘The press don’t know everything. In fact, where this is concerned the press don’t know anything. I’ll come with you.’
    ‘Are you kidding? You’ll be bored stiff within half an hour, and the last thing I need is you pacing up and