‘I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself if I hurt them,’ I repeated. ‘When I became a mother I took on that responsibility. That I’d never hurt them. A mother doesn’t do that,’ I said, standing beside him.

He moved away from me and I followed.

He sniffed. Kicked at the parched ground beneath his feet, sending small clouds of dust billowing into the air.

‘You know what, Rachel. You live in a very privileged world. Some mothers do, you know. Some mothers reject their children, no matter what their children do. That’s what real life is like. It’s not all sunshine and roses and happy families.’

‘You’re telling me life isn’t just all sunshine and roses less than a week after my best friend was murdered? A year after my mother died much too young from a brutal disease? Do you think I don’t fucking know that life is horrific?’

I was angry then. I knew he was hurting. It was written all over his face, but how dare he accuse me of coming from a life of privilege! Of living in some cosseted world where people didn’t get hurt! I knew people did. I knew people suffered terrible, awful things. I knew it and it made me want to scream at him.

He was glaring at me, defiant. Like a child himself, about to throw a tantrum. It made me realise just how little I really knew him. It had just been a fantasy. Madness. None of it had been real life.

I shook my head. I had nothing more to say. I just wanted to go home.

‘You’re as selfish as you ever were, Rachel!’ he spat. ‘A spoiled, stuck-up bitch who doesn’t care who you hurt. You only think you know horror. I’ve seen it,’ he said. ‘I’ve caused it. And it was all that she deserved. Another stuck-up bitch. Oh! her face, Rachel, when she realised. It was almost as priceless as yours is now …’

Chapter Forty-Three

Elizabeth

‘Some memory loss is to be expected with a stroke of this magnitude,’ I heard the doctor say. ‘We’re confident that thrombolysis was carried out in a timely enough manner to minimise long-term damage, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t a long road ahead of you, Elizabeth.’ He perched himself on the end of my bed, as if settling himself for a long chat. ‘We’ll be looking at a holistic approach. You’ll require an assessment from the occupational therapist, and physio, of course.