In the dark I couldn’t find my watch but a hint of lemon behind the curtain suggested dawn. It was easy to guess what was happening. Milo, waking early or not having slept at all, had packed, dressed, shushed his daughters from bed and — hoping to make a quick getaway — urged them downstairs. Only to find that Ollie was waiting or had heard him descending and gone in pursuit. The shouts were muffled; they seemed to come from outside, Milo having stuck his luggage in the boot, and his key in the ignition, before Ollie confronted him. Would Ollie use only his fists? The alcohol that had sedated him at the dinner table would have worn off by now. There were knives in the kitchen, swords on the wall, pitchforks in the outhouse. Was that a little female voice I could hear, frightened and protesting? I felt sorry for Natalie and Bethany, forced to watch. Milo might be younger and fitter, but the adrenalin of righteousness was pumping through Ollie. The violence would be severe.I was tempted to leave them to it.
