Prologue
It isn’t only the water pouring down his throat and filling his lungs that’s killing him. It’s her, the person who has him tied in restraints and is forcing his head under the surface.
The ice-cold liquid ignites a burn that spreads inside him. He coughs and splutters as he chokes, his body desperately trying to reject it, to force it back out, but this only draws more water in. He tries to move his arms to push his way back up to the surface, but they are restrained behind him. When he kicks his weakening legs, she climbs on top of him and pushes her knees into the back of his to keep him firmly in place. He twists from side to side, the internal burning intensifying as the pressure in his chest builds, making it feel fit to burst. Nothing he does to try to save himself is making the slightest bit of difference.
She wants him dead.
He fights and fights until he is too exhausted to carry on and the life inside him begins to ebb. He feels his movements slow as he becomes detached from his surroundings.
Surrendering to the inevitable marks the beginning and end for him. Now is when he sees it all. Everything that has gone before this moment. All that has made him who he is, unfolding before him. He’s been through this before, so he knows what happens: that all at once, thousands of memories begin playing simultaneously.And somehow, he is able to focus on them all. The people he has loved, the people he has lost, the moments they have shared, the laughter, the passion, the anger, the joy and the regrets. He remembers everything.
And then he sees him. A final image before the water consumes him and it all comes to an end.
The dead child. The one who started all this.
Part One
Above
Chapter 1
Six Months Earlier
Damon
‘A year of challenges,’ I blurt out. ‘You and me.’ I plant my hands on my hips as if this is the greatest idea of all time.
‘Like what?’ It’s taking Melissa’s gaze a little extra time to focus on me, a sure-fire sign the alcohol is taking its toll.
I don’t really have an answer, so I wing it. ‘Once a month,’ I grin, ‘we’ll take turns to challenge each other to do something completely out of our comfort zones.’
Her top lip curls, suggesting she already hates the idea. She looks to Adrienne, the only other woman in our group of ten or so mutual friends, like she’s hoping she will offer her a valid excuse to get out of this. Adrienne gives a playful shrug, as if to tell her she’s on her own.
Melissa raises her voice to be heard. ‘Damon,’ she says firmly, ‘aren’t we already about to step further away from our comfort zones than we’ve ever been before?’
I look at her, puzzled. One of her fake lashes is coming unstuck.
‘Our baby plans,’ she says.
‘But that’s different,’ I reply. ‘And it’s also why this might be our last opportunity to do something for ourselves. We can organise challenges that won’t break the bank. Remember, you were the one who told me we needed to be more spontaneous. Try new things before we hit our thirties and get stuck in ruts.’
The truth is I’m not so much stuck in my rut as firmly cemented inside it.
‘I meant signing up for cookery classes or going to more gigs,’ Melissa says. ‘Not wing-walking on bloody biplanes. Every penny counts for us right now.’
Elsewhere in The Abington, our first pub of the night, Steve has selected Neil Diamond’s ‘Sweet Caroline’ on the jukebox, and now our friends are singing along with theba-ba-ba’s. I put my arm around Melissa’s shoulders to offer a persuasive squeeze. ‘I promise we won’t do anything that’s going to cost us an arm and a leg, or that’ll find us in mid-air. So what do you say?’
Her hesitation means I’m winning her round. ‘Okay, if I really have to,’ she concedes.
I clink her glass with mine to seal it. Truth be told, I expected her to put up more of an argument.
‘Who’s going first?’ asks Tommy. ‘You or Mel?’
‘Anyone got a coin to flip?’ I ask the group at large.
None of us has. Apple Pay killed coins.
‘I’ve got a coin-tossing app,’ Tommy offers and opens his phone.
