With my hand in my pocket, I feel the cell phone, the single flame burning with the truth. Clutching the plastic covering, I hold it tightly in my grip. It was supposed to be a confrontation. I was planning to do it when all the mourners had left the house later this evening. When Joanna was gone back home to Liam. When Danny, Dad and Becca played happy families, telling their stories as they tidied up after the amazing turnout. Dad was supposed to be discussing how beautiful a service Nancy Wall got, just like she deserved. And, as it turned out, she did get what she deserved – cops by her graveside. But Turner robbed me of my moment. My one reason for coming here today. Whatever she has on Danny must be incriminating. I wonder if it’s something to do with the jacket they took from his house the day they were supposedly doing door-to-door calls. We’ll see how that turns out when I give her the phone, with the fingerprints of whoever sent that text arranging to meet Katie Collins in Treehill Park. I’ll have to tell her I only opened the box from Oakridge this morning, before going to the funeral; that I had planned to give it to her as soon as the funeral was over. I don’t want her going all fucking legal when she finds out I’ve had it since yesterday, interrogating me about who else touched it? blah blah blah.

When we get to Jeff’s car he puts his hands on my face and tilts my chin so I can’t avoid his existence. His eyes are actually quite comforting, lifting my spirits slightly. But only slightly. I still feel like I’m in hell.

‘Jeff, I don’t think Danny did it,’ I blurt out. ‘The way he looked at me, the despair in his eyes, the disbelief… I just don’t believe he did it.’ And I don’t, he had too much to lose; his new baby, his wife, his big job. Why would he commit murder just to cover up a secret for his dying mother? Whereas Dad… his wife was already gone, maybe he couldn’t face losing his daughter too.

‘Well, we’ll know soon enough,’ Jeff says. ‘It’ll soon be over.’ He kisses my forehead. It will be all over. I don’t know about that. For me it’s only beginning. Life, real life. Up to now it’s been like The Truman Show, everyone playing their role in the bubble for Becca, while outside the world continued on. Katie Collins continued on. My real mom continued on, until she didn’t. And I, oblivious to everything, played my part unaware of the production. Well, not anymore.