When Marnie Logan was fourteen she dreamed of marrying Johnny Depp or JasonPriestley and living happily ever after in a house with a Gone-with-the-Windstaircase and a double-fridge full of Mars Bars. When she was twenty-five shewanted a house with a small mortgage and a big garden. Now she'd take a flat onthe ground floor with decent plumbing and no mice.

Pausing on the landing, she swaps two plastic bags of groceries between herhands, flexing her fingers before continuing the climb. Elijah is ahead of her,counting each step.

"I can count to a hundred," he tells her, putting on his serious face.

"What about a hundred and one?"

"Nope."

"Why not?"

"That's too many."

Elijah knows how many steps there are from the lobby to the top floor of themansion block (seventy-nine) and how long it takes for the electronic timer toflick off, plunging the stairwell into darkness (sixty-four) unless you runreally fast; and how to unlock the front door using two different keys, the goldone at the top and the big silver one at the bottom.

He pushes open the door and runs down the hallway to the kitchen, calling Zoe'sname. She doesn't answer because she's not at home. She'll be at the library orat a friend's house, hopefully doing her homework, more likely not.

Marnie notices an envelope on the doormat. No stamp or address. It's from herlandlords, Mr. and Mrs. Brummer, who live downstairs on the second floor and whoown four other flats in Maida Vale. This makes them rich, but Mrs. Brummer stillcollects coupons and holds up the queue at the supermarket by counting outcoppers that she keeps in little reusable plastic bags.

Marnie puts the letter in a drawer with the other final demands and warnings.Then she unpacks the groceries, the cold items first, restocking the fridge.Elijah taps his finger on the fishbowl where a lone goldfish, stirred fromindolence, circumnavigates his universe and comes to rest. Then he runs to thefront room.

"Where's the TV, Mummy?"

"It's broken. I'm getting it fixed."

"I'm going to miss Thomas."

"We'll read a book instead."

Marnie wonders when she learned to lie so easily. There is a gap in the cornerof the room where the TV used to be. Cash Converters gave her ninety pounds,which paid for the groceries and the electricity bill, but not much more. Afterunpacking the bags, she mops the floor where the freezer has leaked. Amechanical beep tells her to close the door.

"The fridge is open," yells Elijah, who is playing in her wardrobe.

"I got it," she replies.

After wiping the speckled gray bench tops, she sits down and takes off hersandals, rubbing her feet. What's she going to do about the rent? She can'tafford the flat, but she can't afford anywhere else. She is two months behind.Ever since Daniel disappeared she's been living off their limited savings andborrowing money from friends, but after thirteen months the money and favorshave been exhausted. Mr. Brummer doesn't wink at her any more or call her"sweetie." Instead he drops around every Friday, walking through the flat,demanding that she pay what's owed or vacate the premises.

Marnie goes through her purse, counting the notes and coins. She has thirty-eight pounds and change—not enough to pay the gas bill. Zoe needs extraphone credit and new school shoes. She also has an excursion to the BritishMuseum next week.

There are more bills—Marnie keeps a list—but none of them compare tothe thirty thousand pounds she owes a man called Patrick Hennessy, an Ulstermanwith malice in every lilt and cadence of his accent. It was Daniel's debt. Themoney he lost before he went missing. The money he gambled away. According toHennessy, this debt didn't disappear when Daniel vanished. And no amount ofcrying poor or begging or threatening to tell the police will wipe it out.Instead the debt is handed down like a genetic trait through a person's DNA.Blue eyes, dimples, fat thighs, thirty thousand pounds: from father to son, fromhusband to wife ... In Marnie's worst dreams, the Ulsterman is a distant light,hurtling toward her down a long narrow tunnel, miles away, but getting closer.She can feel the rumbling beneath her feet and the air pressure changing, unableto move, locked in place.

Hennessy visited her two weeks ago, demanding to see Daniel, accusing Marnie ofhiding him. Forcing his foot in Marnie's door, he explained the economics of hisbusiness, while his eyes studied the curves of her body.

"It's a basic human trait, the desire to live in the past," he told her, "tospend a few harmless hours pretending that everything will be as it used to be,but the Tooth Fairy and the Easter Bunny aren't real, Marnella, and it's timefor big girls to grow up and take responsibility."

Hennessy produced a contract signed by Daniel. It named Marnie as being equallyliable for his debts. She pleaded ignorance. She tried to argue. But theUlsterman only saw things in black and white—the black being the signatureand the white being a sheet covering Marnie's body if she failed to pay.

"From now on you work for me," he announced, pinning her neck against the wallwith his outspread fingers. She could see a stray piece of food caught betweenhis teeth. "I have an agency in Bayswater. You'll go on their books. Half ofwhat you earn will come to me."

"What do you mean, an agency?" croaked Marnie.

Hennessy seemed to find her naïvete amusing. "Keep that up. It'll play well withthe punters."

Marnie understood. She shook her head. Hennessy raised his other hand and usedhis thumb to press against her neck below her earlobe right behind her jawbone,finding the nerve.

"It's called the mandibular angle," he explained as the blinding pain detonateddown Marnie's right side, making her vision blur and her bowels slacken. "It's apressure point discovered by a martial arts professor. The police use it tocontrol people. Doesn't even leave a bruise."

Marnie couldn't focus on his words. The hurt robbed her of any other sense.Finally, he released her. "I'll send someone to pick you up tomorrow. Get somephotos taken. How does that sound?" He forced her head up and down. "And don'teven think of going to the police. I know the name of the nursing home where youkeep your father and where your children go to school."

Pushing the memory aside, Marnie fills the kettle and opens the fridge, removinga Tupperware container of gluten-free Bolognese, which is pretty much all Elijaheats these days. He's happy. He doesn't cry. He smiles all the time. He justwon't put on any weight. "Failure to thrive," is what the doctors call it; ormore technically he has celiac disease. If he doesn't eat he can't grow and ifhe doesn't grow ...

"I have to go out tonight," she tells him. "Zoe will look after you."

"Where is she?"

"She'll be home soon."

Her daughter is fifteen. Independent. Strong-willed. Beautiful. Rebellious.Hurt. Adolescence and hormones are difficult enough without tragedy. Allchildren destroy their own childhoods by wanting to grow up too quickly.

Tonight Marnie will make five hundred pounds. Hennessy will take half the money.The rest will pay the bills and be gone by tomorrow afternoon. Her cash doesn'tcirculate so much as spiral down the drain.

Standing at the sink, she looks down at the garden below, which has a paddlingpond and a broken set of swings. A gust of wind rocks the branches, sendingleaves into a spin. She doesn't know most of her...