The room feels like it’s closing in. It’s clear neither of us wants to start the conversation. So we sit there, me breaking pieces off the frittata slice, pushing it around the plate, Jeff managing to eat half of his.

After about ten minutes Jeff pushes his plate away and leans on the counter.

‘Becca,’ he says, eyes heavy, the shadow of a beard wrapped around his chin, his hair a mess. ‘I think you should go straight to the cops. Call Turner and tell her you want to speak to her. She needs to know you’re a victim here; that you’re only finding out the truth, that you knew nothing about Katie Collins being your sister before now.’

For some reason it all seems futile; I don’t have the same interest anymore. Everything is wrong. I’m living in a world full of deception, a world where everyone I cared about has lied to me. Why should I bother?

‘You need to move on this, Becca, get to her before she gets to you. As things stand, the only thing between you being a victim or a suspect is the alibi from that guy in the office, and that only covers you for half of Saturday night. They will try to prove that you still had time to get to Treehill Park.’

His words are like tissue paper floating on the ocean, they are having no impact on me. He doesn’t realize I don’t care anymore.

‘Are you listening to me? This is your life. As bad as it seems now, it will get a lot worse if you’re arrested for murder. You need to pull yourself together. This is not the time to check out. It’s time to take action.’

Reality slowly seeps through my body, wakening me up to the facts. Jeff is doing his best to convince me I need to do something before something is done to me.

‘You’re the one who was wronged here, Becca. Do something about it.’

My eyes meet his. He’s right, I need to take action.

I need to talk to Turner.

The room tightens around me, squeezing my soul. It’s harder than I could have imagined, this living with the truth. A lot harder than living a lie.

Sipping strong coffee, I feel it travel through my veins. My honest veins. I realize the truth has been in me all along. I’ve always been Louise Johnson. No matter what I was called, no matter who pretended to be my mom, my dad or my brother.

I was always her. Louise, Katie’s sister. The girl in the pink coat.

Slipping off the stool, I turn to Jeff.

‘I’m going to take a shower.’