It’s a body. There’s a body on the ground. He's still wearing his pyjamas. No, no, it can’t be. I clutch my stomach.

‘Shit, it’s Noah,’ Oliver says, my blood freezes.

‘Noah . . . what, what happened?’ I ask.

The kitchen door flies open, Mary runs out; she’s wearing her dressing gown; a cry escapes her lips as she catches sight of Noah. Her hand flies to her mouth. Goosebumps erupt on my arms. 

‘No, no, no, no,’ she says, running to Oliver, tears streaming down her face.

‘I’m sorry, Mary, I’m sorry,’ Oliver says, hugging her.     

Oliver moves out of the way and I catch sight of Noah’s battered and bruised face. His soulless eyes are staring straight in my direction. Did anyone else hear the scream? If Mary has they must’ve done. I run my hand through my hair. This can't be happening. This can't be happening. Callum will be up in his room now wondering what’s going on. I can’t take my eyes off Noah’s body.

‘He . . . he was really struggling,’ Mary says, sobbing into Oliver’s shoulders. ‘But I never thought he would. I tried to help him . . . I really did.’

Shit, it sounds like they’re saying he committed suicide. My vision blurs. 

‘Grace, go back to the annexe, please,’ Oliver says. I can hear the pain in his voice as he speaks. He looks at me with pleading eyes. I want to stay. I want to stay here with Noah, I don't want to leave him. 

It’s then Mary notices me standing there for the first time. She refocuses her gaze on Oliver and continues to cry into his shoulder. She's putting on an act. There's no way she's crying for real. I let out a steady breath. 

I shake my head. ‘But he can’t be dead . . . he . . .’

‘Grace, we need to phone the police, please just go back to the annexe and stay there . . .  I’ll come and see you in a bit.’ His voice trembles.

He’s not really asking me to go back to the annexe, he’s telling me. I stand still, staring at Oliver and Mary. I force my legs to move and half-stumble back to the annexe, my head is spinning. I take in big steady breaths, trying to calm the thoughts racing round my mind and push open the door to my bedroom. There’s no way on earth I’m going to be able to get back into bed and go to sleep now. It’ll be another two or three hours at least until the sun comes up. I perch myself on the edge of my bed, my body shaking. What the hell is going to happen now?