Chapter 2
7.50 a.m.
Emmeline Smith laid there, staring at the ceiling. There was no bedside light in the room and the rust colour which clung desperately to the velour curtains blocked out any kind of proper brightness. Instead, as the last remnants of darkness fought with the growing daylight behind the fabric, it forced the rust into the room and spread in patches up the tangerine and mustard on alternate walls. It was like being inside a bruised orange.
Sleep had evaded her for much of the night yet again; she’d had a couple of hours, maybe. Not much more than that. The alarm clock had been a waste of time – she had no intention of missing the day. It would be on the news, maybe, and make some of the headlines in the newspapers, hopefully, and then the message would get through to pe
