“I'd have been here sooner,” Brittany says as she makes her way through the hall, “Only I ran into a spot of bother near Canterbury.” She pauses from time to time, touching the walls, examining ornaments, scrutinising pictures, idly flicking through leaflets and mail on the hall table, sniffing all the time. “Or was it Coventry?”
Linda's head is almost spinning at this point. “Coventry?” she asks.
“You'll have to excuse me, geography isn't my strongest subject. It all looks like much of a muchness from my perspective.” Brittany touches the dining room door and gasps. “Your trouble's in there, isn't it?”
“It's my son, Nathan” Linda replies. “He's barricaded himself in there with the twins.”
Brittany steps in close to the door, so close that her nose is touching it, while her hand turns the knob.
“The thing is,” Linda continues, panic creeping into her voice, “I think he's got a knife.”
