Rose smiled as she watched Maddie, as happy as she had ever seen her, her thick hair flying behind her, her feet barely touching the ground in her hurry to be the first to announce that they were home. Taking some of their luggage out of the boot, Rose paused for a second, allowing herself a moment to breathe in the air, admire the scenery around her, knowing with a small sense of pleasure that soon the majesty and wonder of the mountains would become commonplace to her, just like every familiar scene should. Maddie had left the front door swinging on its creaky hinges, so Rose had only to shoulder it open, without the need to put her bags down. It was when she came across the scene in the living room that she dropped them, frozen for a moment by shock. Maddie was sitting crossed-legged on the floor next to John, who was lying sprawled on his front, completely still. From what little Rose could see, his face lay smashed against the tiles, white and waxy. There was an acrid smell of urine in the air, and Rose knew with a dark, grim certainty that whatever was wrong, it was far more than arthritis.
