As I look at his kind face I remember him coming to see me in the psychiatric unit. Nobody else had bothered to visit. My parents had said it was best if they left me alone; Barbara was still furious. And Ben, well, he’d returned to university and cut me out of his life completely. As time went on it felt like what had happened between us was some strange dream, so much so that I began to doubt that Ben Cosgrove had even existed. The only person who had any concern for me was Harry. I remember how I sobbed when I saw him standing in the waiting room. He had worn a suit. For a countryman who spent most of his days in a waxed jacket and wellies, this was a poignant touch. He stayed with me the whole afternoon. We made small talk mostly. I told him how bad the food was and he said if he’d known he’d have packed a couple of Cornish pasties for me. He knew how much I used to like them. I didn’t have the heart to tell him I wasn’t really eating anything. Talking to Harry, I felt like a child again. I was still only fourteen, a baby, and yet I’d been forced to become an adult overnight. When the time came for Harry to leave I gripped hold of him, terrified of being left alone in that place. But Harry was so kind. He told me that everything was going to be fine, that I just had to be there for a few more months to get myself better and then life could begin again. But it was his parting words that stayed with me, that helped me get through those next few months without losing my mind. As we stood at the door of the visitors’ room he took my hand and squeezed it tightly. ‘You’re a good person, Maggie Carrington,’ he said as tears cascaded down my face. ‘Don’t ever forget that.’

And he said it so sincerely that I believed it.

I turn the page and flick through image after image of Ben at various ages and then suddenly there I am. I must be about four years old and I’m sitting on the front step of Ketton House. I beam up at the camera with a gappy-toothed smile. I stare at the photo for a few moments wondering what it is about it that is making me feel strange. And then I realize it’s because I look so much like Elspeth. When the bad thing happened, my mother, in a fit of rage, had thrown away all her photos of me so I never quite remembered what I looked like. I always thought Elspeth was more like Sean, but looking at this photo the likeness is startling.