‘And you accuse me of being a psychopath?’

‘So I’m right, am I?’

‘Grace, I don’t know who you think you were watching, but it wasn’t my parents. I’ve told you what happened to them.’

‘No you haven’t. You told me what happened to Erin. Except you couldn’t handle the fact that they’d been taken away from you. You hated the fact your parents were still around and they weren’t, so you changed your reality, didn’t you? You told yourself it was your parents who’d died, and that Erin and your daughter were still alive. You wanted to give yourself hope. I get it. And I feel sorry for you.’

‘You’re talking rubbish,’ he says, his voice a hoarse whisper, tears forming at the edges of his eyes.

‘No I’m not, Tom. You know I’m not. You just can’t accept your guilt over their deaths. You feel responsible for it, because you’d got blind drunk at the pub and they were coming to pick you up. Yet again. That’s why you don’t drink much any more, isn’t it? That’s why you always want to be the one to drive everywhere. You need to come to terms with it, Tom. For your own good.’

‘I don’t have anything to come to terms with.’

‘Yes you do,’ I say, taking a stiff, shiny piece of paper out of my pocket and showing it to him. ‘You have to come to terms with this.’

Tom looks at the photo and I can see the reflection of his perfect family in the tears that coat his eyes. Just as I think he’s about to finally burst into tears, I notice his jaw clenching and the veins beginning to bulge at the sides of his head before he launches himself at me.

48

This time, I’m quicker. This time, I’m sober. I know what he’s about to do. I manage to dodge him and throw him off balance and he crashes into the hall wall, stumbling over his suitcase.

I’ve thought ahead. I’ve planned for every eventuality. I’ve left the door unlocked, and I’ve got my car key in my pocket, just in case I needed to do this. Just in case I needed to run.

‘Get the fuck back here, you fucking bitch!’ Tom yells at me as I scramble for the door and open it. ‘Don’t you fucking dare walk out on me!’

I sprint up the front path, every fibre in my body screaming at me as I hear Tom clambering to his feet and running for the door.

‘Grace! Grace!’ he calls, putting on a show for the neighbours. The change in his tone inside just a couple of seconds is frightening. Couldn’t possibly seem angry in front of them, could he? Got to make out he’s the reasonable one, just in case anyone’s watching. Ever the actor. Ever the planner. But he hasn’t planned this one.

I fumble with my car key as I run, and scrabble to press the button to unlock the car. It takes a couple of attempts before it works, and I see Tom come out of the front door and start running up the path.