‘It’s not,’ I cut her off angrily, ‘and even if it were, Mum didn’t want anyone to know and she would never want her son to be blamed for murder. You just told me Mum did it, you can’t start twisting it around now. This is getting too much,’ I cry. ‘I don’t know what to believe any more.

‘I have to talk to the police,’ I add more quietly when she doesn’t answer. ‘I have to.’

Annie pulls in a tight breath. ‘I’ll make us that drink,’ she says before closing the door behind her. ‘Try not to worry,’ she calls. I swear I hear her locking the door.

Chapter Thirty-Three

Exhausted, I let the hot water burn into my cold, aching muscles, but I can’t relax, and after a while I pull myself out, grabbing the towel from the rail and wrapping it around me before trying the handle.

It doesn’t open. I pull at it again, futilely twisting it, calling Annie’s name, and after a while I hear her approaching, finally unlocking it with an apology that she hadn’t realised.

I stare at her in disbelief as I follow her downstairs to where she’s laid out a pair of old jogging bottoms and a fleece, both of which are far too small for me but I put on anyway. ‘Are you sure you didn’t mean to lock the bathroom door?’ I ask, following her into the kitchen where she’s fiddling with a lighter, her shaking hand attempting to light another candle.

‘I thought we deserved something stronger,’ she says, ignoring me. ‘I’ve poured us both a sherry.’ She finally lights the wick and tosses the lighter into a drawer, shutting it quickly, pressing her hand against it for a moment too long.

‘Did you find out what the noise was?’ I ask as she gestures to two glasses. I take a small sip of the sweet drink, grimacing but thanking her anyway.

Annie shakes her head. ‘Must have been something outside.’

She seems nervous, evading my questions. There is more she’s not telling me, but with nowhere either of us can go, I resolve that at some point during the night I’ll find out what it is.

Annie brushes past me, back to the living room. ‘You know, I never knew how your mum could have pushed her with such force,’ she says. ‘Her being such a slight woman. The way Iona hit that rock …’

I feel myself stiffen. I don’t like her insinuation and there’s something about what she’s just said that doesn’t sit right, though I can’t put my finger on it. ‘Annie, I realise you don’t want me speaking to the police,’ I say, ‘but you can’t suddenly be happy to put the blame on Danny.’

‘I just wish I could tell you exactly what happened,’ she sighs.