I stopped reading after that sentence. I felt rage shoot through me like a faulty jolt of electricity. I had just come out of a Shell station on the 101 south of Santa Barbara. I broke off from her text, not wanting to deal with any more of her sanctimonious self-justifications. And deciding at that moment that I would get a divorce done as quickly as the courts would allow it.

I knew that Klara had to read her mother’s text – especially as it did show that Todor had covered us on all fronts and kept us out of the story. It would also let Klara know that her mother had entered that denial territory where her own fellow believers could be absolved of murdering an innocent woman and an unborn baby because, of course, they were doing what they believed to be God’s work.

But on reflection I decided not to send it on to my daughter until after I’d heard that she’d arrived in Amsterdam and found somewhere to temporarily call home. If she read it now, she would be so enraged, so furious, that she might not sleep. She needed sleep.

It was strange passing across the LA city limits, telling myself that I would not be staying here much longer; that I was moving on as soon as that was possible. I got off the 101. There was a jam on the freeway – even though it was almost 11.30 p.m. Los Angeles: the endless tangle. All the money. All the promise. All the longing. All the failure. All the despair. All the sense of not being one of the rare chosen few. How jammed we all were in this town, crawling along in our lives at inches per hour.

I finally made it to my little street. And parked in front of the house that had just been shuttered against me – and to which, according to a new text from Todor (You home yet? Meant to say: keys for the new locks are under the flowerpot to the left of the front door), I was now welcomed back … by no one.

I got out of the car. I popped the trunk. I pulled out the bag with the clothes that Klara had bought for me. I dug out the duffel with all the money in it. I walked up our little drive. I lifted up the flowerpot and found the keys. Once through the front door I slid the shutter back down and locked it from the inside. I didn’t know if Kelleher’s people would be looking for me. I was taking no chances.