‘No one,’ she says again, but just for an instant Mark comes into her head. She thinks of their conversations about Anton, his concern when asking her to look out for his father. Does he know? she wonders.

His eyes flicker over her face, narrowing with suspicion. As if reading her thoughts, he says: ‘My son.’

Alarmed now, she takes a step sideways. ‘I need to go,’ she says softly, nerves in her mouth.

‘We could have been so close, Leah. I would have given you everything.’

The door is right there beside her, but she dare not turn away from him. A woman died in this house. Get rid of her, Hilary had said.

‘I’m sorry,’ she tells him, ‘I need to go now,’ her hand fluttering behind her back, in a panic as she feels for the cool brass of the doorknob in her hand, but he shakes his head sadly.

‘No, dear. You’ve got it all wrong.’ His voice is low, his stare cool and direct. ‘I’m the one who’s sorry. And you’re not going anywhere.’

28

Hilary

‘Where have you been?’ Greg asks, as soon as she steps into the hall.

Hilary closes the door behind her, glances at him, and says: ‘I needed some air.’

Her voice sounds strange to her, weirdly disembodied, not her own. She sees Greg’s gaze, the oddness in it, the wariness, and feels herself inwardly squirming away from his scrutiny.

‘Has something happened, Hilary? You look awful.’

She feels awful, as if she’s been in a car crash, as if she’s just witnessed some horrendous event. As if she’s been stripped naked in public, all her hair shorn, like those French women after the Second World War, punished for sleeping with the enemy. Shocked and humiliated, right now she would like to die.

‘Too much sun,’ she says, in her new false voice, keeping her gaze averted from her husband as she moves towards the foot of the stairs. ‘I’ll just go and freshen up. I’ll be right as rain in a few minutes.’

Her legs are trembling as she starts climbing up past him, and she’s sure he can see it in her – how stricken she is, her inner scaffolding poised to collapse.

‘The Boltons are here already,’ he hisses, as she passes. ‘Everyone’s arriving – you can’t just disappear.’

Disappear. That’s exactly what she would like to do. Vanish in a puff of smoke.

‘Five minutes,’ she croaks, the strain about to break.

She hurries up the last few steps, slams the bathroom door behind her, then leans against it, relieved to be alone at last, shut away from Greg’s scrutiny, his demands. But no sooner is she alone than it all comes crashing back at her.

‘It was a casual fuck! That’s all!’