I got up off the bench. Then I sat down again abruptly. "How do you know that, Tommy? Have you walked in on them, too?"

"No, but Peter has."

“What?” I got up again. Swung round and stared down at him. “What?"

“Sit down, Flora." He reached up and took my arm, gently. I sat, tremulously. I felt numb. Horrified.

"Peter sailed with me two years ago at Cowes, remember? Crewed my Laser. He told me he'd come home unexpectedly and found Christina curled up on the sofa with another girl, watching TV. Arms around each other. Nothing graphic, fully clothed. But he knew at once what it was. Also, a friend of his — Adam? Who's here?"

"Yes," I whispered.

"Who's gay, had asked Peter about his father. Once, when he was drunk.”

"He knew."

"Apparently. And Peter asked me, when we were sailing, what I thought about his father. Whether he was. I had to tell him the truth.”

"You did?"

"Yes, I did."

“So Peter knows," I whispered.

"Has done for two years."

"And was he . . . ?” I stalled. Couldn't speak.

"Confused. Upset, obviously. But not as much as you'd imagine. Because he'd left it a year before he spoke to me. So he'd got his head round it, to an extent. More so, now. We email. I ask him how he's doing."

I stared at him, stupefied. Then out to sea. I swung back again.

“So why the heck didn't anyone tell me?"

Tommy was silent.

"Why, Tommy? Why didn't I know?"

"Peter didn't want you to. He thought you'd be too hurt by it."

"What, like . . . like I'd turned Hugo, or something?"

He shrugged.

I went cold. “Did I?"

“Don't be ridiculous, Flora."

"No, but — I did."

"I said don't be ridiculous. Human beings don't work like that. You know that. But that may be why he didn't tell you, because he knew you'd think that. You, with your guilt. And he didn't see any reason for you to know."

I felt as if all breath had been sucked from my body. Felt limp. Lifeless. There I'd been, carrying on as normal. Life, my life, had been going on, as usual. Peter at school, me at home, painting, seeing Mum, chatting to Celia. Yet all the time, it was different, the picture, to the one I thought I was seeing. The treachery struck me as colossal. Unforgivable. Such deception. And yet, all in the name of protection. Protecting me. My brain scrambled to keep up.

"And — and why didn't you tell me, all those years ago? Why, Tommy?"

Tommy leaned forward on his elbows again. He massaged his forehead with his fingertips.