Heather nodded and waved, and began to jog over to them. It was Lillian, and the woman she had caught outside the cottage, her sister. Now that they stood next to each other, it was clear she was a few years older than Lillian, or had had a rougher life. Lillian was wearing a long camel-hair coat, the collar turned up, and her grey hair was whipped by the wind, while the other still wore the heavy parka. It was Lillian who stepped forward, a wide grin splitting her face.

‘Did you catch her, Lyle? Did you kill her?’

Heather, who was still in the deeper shadow of the folly, turned her face away and down, keen that they should not recognize her until the very last moment. Lillian, though, seemed unconcerned, stepping towards her with her arms open.

‘Little wolf, your father will be so pleased.’

Heather grabbed the older woman by the shoulders and slammed her backwards into the car. She squawked like a chicken, while her sister shouted something Heather didn’t catch.

‘Who are you?’ Heather brought the lethal little knife up to Lillian’s throat and pressed it there. When the other woman moved, she shook her head. ‘Another step and she’s dead. I bloody promise you.’

‘Calm down, Heather, dear,’ said Lillian. She cleared her throat. ‘We’re old friends of your father. You know who that is now, don’t you?’

‘Why? You were getting into the house when I wasn’t there, weren’t you? All that stuff with the funeral, the wreath, the feathers. You wanted me to come up here. Why?’

‘A little family reunion.’ Lillian grimaced. ‘We thought Lyle should know about his sister.’

‘We raised that boy,’ spat the other one. Heather spared her a glance. She looked furious, hectic points of colour in the middle of her grey cheeks. ‘When your idiot father got caught, we became everything to that little lad – his mothers, his sisters. We kept him out here, safe from the world. But when he was old enough, suddenly …’

‘Suddenly we weren’t good enough any more. Cast out,’ Lillian continued. ‘I ask you, Heather, is that fair? After all the work we’d done, the hours we’d put in? All these years we’ve kept track of the children of Fiddler’s Mill. We’ve practically been like second parents to them. And apparently your father approved of our dismissal. He agreed that we should be removed from the boy’s life, even as he himself sat mouldering in prison.’ She grunted. ‘When we realized that dear, sweet Colleen had lied all along, well, we thought wouldn’t that make a fitting little present for Michael?’

‘The daughter he didn’t know, murdered by his precious son,’ the other woman grinned. ‘Although of course he hasn’t fucking managed it. Should know better than to trust men to do anything right.’

‘What do you know about my mother?’