No Turning Back: The can’t-put-it-down thriller of the year

And then there, his name: Elliot Nunn.

Elliot. A child’s name. An innocent name.

The screen cut to a live feed, a young male reporter standing in front of a line of tired-looking flowers. Anna turned the sound up.

‘…from the estate reserved for dock workers at the once-famous Ridgmont HM Dockyards. Here we are before the building Elliot Nunn lived in with his mother, father and two of his sisters. Mourners have been leaving flowers outside all day.’ The camera zoomed out to reveal a graffitied brick wall lined with flowers and teddies, and beyond, an untidy garden littered by rubbish. The faded flowery curtains of the family’s flat were closed, a small child’s bike discarded at the doorstep. Behind it all was the debilitated dockyard, hints of the skeletal remains of ships long abandoned since The Docks closed in the eighties. It had swallowed up a huge 300-acre site in its heyday, churning out hundreds of navy ships and employing thousands of people. When it closed, most of it was taken over by private investors and eventually turned into a smart new estate where Anna was now living. But the former housing put aside for dock workers remained – now known as The Docks – two rusting cranes and the huge tower block Elliot Nunn had lived in standing garish and tall over them. Either side of them were crumbling brick buildings, graffitied and vandalised. There had been promises to demolish the site, but that would cost money, money the local council would rather plough into the new builds dotting up around the area.

In the middle of it was a school, an ugly sixties building with a faded brick exterior. Elliot must have been a pupil there. Had he walked straight from school to the beachfront where Anna was walking with Joni, one goal in mind: to kill someone?

I won’t let you hurt me.

Why had he said that?

‘I’m joined by Dawn Williams,’ the reporter said now, interrupting Anna’s thoughts. ‘Dawn, you’re Elliot Nunn’s aunt.’

Anna felt her heart gallop and she moved closer to the TV. She ought to turn it off, but she just couldn’t. The camera focused on a large woman with frizzy red hair to her shoulders, the same woman who’d been outside the police station smoking.

The woman’s blue eyes looked like steel but her bottom lip quivered slightly, her smudged eyeliner hinting at a sleepless night and many tears.

Anna put her hand to her mouth.

‘Thank you for joining us,’ the news reporter said softly. ‘We understand what a difficult time this must be for you and your family.’

The woman nodded, jaw clenching. ‘They asked me to represent.’

‘Of course. How are Elliot’s parents coping?’

‘Gutted. Absolutely gutted. He was a gorgeous boy, so kind and gentle, wouldn’t hurt a fly.’ She wiped her nose and looked into the distance.

Kind and gentle? Anna saw Elliot’s hand raising, the glint of silver. She shook her head, eyes brimming with tears. How could a kind and gentle boy do such a thing?

‘It must be a comfort to see so many well-wishers?’ the reporter asked, gesturing towards the flowers.

‘Yeah, my brother and sister-in-law want to say thanks.’ Two young boys pedalled past on their bikes, waving at the camera. In the distance, a seagull landed on a bin overspilling with rubbish, making it shudder.

Anna looked at the floral tributes. It was as though a child had been killed by a heartless killer.

Maybe Anna was a heartless killer. She’d raised the comb in the air. What had she been planning to do before he fell against it? Would she have jutted it into his skin anyway to protect Joni?

Anna wrapped her arms around her belly, feeling like she might get sick again. She looked at Joni. She was alive. Safe. Wasn’t that all that mattered?

The reporter tilted his head. ‘You say your nephew wouldn’t hurt a fly but he did hurt a mother, attempt to harm her child too. What were your—’

‘Piss off!’ a man’s voice shouted off camera. The camera wobbled as a hand covered it. There was the sound of a scuffle then the hand was removed and the reporter appeared on camera again, rearranging his tie, a look of panic in his eyes. Behind him, the aunt was being marched away by a man with short fair hair, muscular arms.

The reporter seemed to compose himself and followed them down the drive, shiny grey trousers catching in the light. ‘Jamie? Are you Jamie Nunn?’ The reporter looked over his shoulder at the camera, eyes sparking with excitement. ‘Elliot Nunn’s older brother,’ he explained to viewers.

Anna thought of what Detective Morgan had said about Elliot’s brother.

‘Leave us alone,’ Elliot’s brother hissed without turning. ‘My little brother’s dead, just leave us the fuck alone or you’ll end up like him.’ He continued with his aunt down the path, the grief and anger throbbing off them both.

Anna put her head in her hands. She’d caused that grief.

‘Oh, Anna.’ She looked up to see Nathan standing in the doorway, Florence behind him.

‘He guessed you’d come here,’ she said apologetically. ‘He knows.’

‘How?’ Anna asked Nathan.

He sighed. ‘Sources.’

‘So my name will be out soon?’

‘Eventually. I wish you’d just told me the truth instead of calling in sick.’

‘I’ll leave you to it,’ Florence said softly, putting her hand on Nathan’s shoulder. ‘Good to see you again, Nathan.’

When Florence walked out, Nathan peered towards Joni. ‘She’s okay?’

‘Yes, physically, anyway,’ Anna said, trying to keep her voice strong. ‘But she witnessed what happened which can’t be good for her…’ Her voice trailed off and she turned away, trying desperately not to cry.

Game face.

Nathan walked across the room and pulled her into a hug. ‘I’m so sorry, Anna. Of all the people for this to happen to.’

She looked up at him. ‘I killed a boy, Nathan.’

‘You had to and I’m not the only one who thinks it,’ he said fiercely. ‘The Coast to Coast “Your Say” lines were jammed this morning with—’

She pulled away from him. ‘You did a phone-in on it?’

‘Before we knew it was you, Anna! Don’t tell me you wouldn’t have?’

She sighed. ‘I suppose not.’

‘Everyone’s on your side, bar the usual devil’s advocate, of course. You have nothing to worry about.’

‘I still killed him.’

Nathan shook his head. ‘Self-defence. You weren’t charged, were you? It’ll be fine. You’re a bloody hero.’

‘It doesn’t feel like it.’ She sank onto a sofa, raking her hands through her long hair. She’d washed it, over and over, when she’d got in the night before. But she could swear she could still feel and smell the boy’s blood in it.

Nathan sat next to her and they both watched the TV. The newsreader was now discussing whether it was right that Anna – or the ‘unnamed mother’ as they referred to her – hadn’t been charged. It was clear the newsreader thought it was right.

And then there it was again, that photo of Elliot stretched across the news studio behind them.

‘I don’t understand why he did it,’ Anna said.