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Prologue

A heavy fog had come down over London that evening and the traffic was backed up all the way from the Lea Bridge roundabout to Hackney Central.

Jawinder Newton banged her hands on the steering wheel as the bus in front of her Peugeot stopped again. It was nearly eleven o’clock. Not for the first time, the monthly meeting of the Hospital Trust had overrun. September’s report was full of unresolved problems and she’d had to fight to keep her eyes open. It wasn’t just her demanding job-she was a solicitor in a busy local partnership that dealt with immigrants’ problems. The fact was, she’d only been back at work for six weeks after maternity leave. She was finding it hard being away from her beautiful Raul. He would soon be eight months old and she already felt she was losing touch with him. At least her mother was able to look after the little boy when she and Steven were out during the day. She didn’t know how people could entrust their children to outsiders.

The traffic finally cleared at the roundabout ahead and Jawinder turned right at Clapton Ponds. She found a parking place opposite the terraced house on Thornby Road and stretched for her bag. Before she got out, she turned on the interior light and looked in the mirror. She was a mess, her short black hair ruffled and her eyes bloodshot, but she didn’t care. In a few seconds she’d be lost in Raul’s delicate scent and listening to the miraculous regular intake of his breath.

Locking the car in the thick drizzle, Jawinder ran across the deserted street, house key in her hand. As she went up the steps, her heart missed a beat. Raul was screaming. Even though the nursery was at the back on the first floor, she could hear his cries clearly and immediately she panicked.

She pushed the door open, letting her handbag and briefcase fall to the floor.

“Steven!” she shouted, going past the sitting-room door. It was a couple of inches open and she could see her husband’s head lolling on the back of the sofa. Jeremy Paxman was grilling some government spokesman on the television. “For God’s sake, Steven! Can’t you hear Raul?”

Jawinder dashed up the stairs, her heart pounding. The sound of her son’s voice was piercing. It was making the hair on the back of her neck stand up and her breath catch in her throat. She ran into the nursery.

“What is it, my darling?” she said, picking up the red-faced child. His eyes were wide and filled with tears. He was alternately gulping for breath and screaming as if he were completely terrified. Jawinder had never seen him like this before. She clutched him to her chest and pressed the palm of her hand against his forehead. He wasn’t running a fever. The poor thing. He must have had some awful dream. Did babies have nightmares? She cooed to him, stroking his back and feeling the heaving little body gradually calm down.