She turned to Dan and allowed him to hug her too, but she could feel herself withdrawing even as his strength seemed to embrace her. He was a good man, decent beyond anything she’d known for years, but she couldn’t take that sort of kindness now. She was still too traumatized, confused, and horrified to know how to respond to anything beyond what was happening to her mother.

“Leanne’s gone to make some phone calls,” Dan said, as if she’d asked.

Claudia nodded and gestured for them to sit down, as though they were in her sitting room and everything was normal and tea might be on its way.

The sitting room. Don’t go there. Not now.

“The nurse told us,” Henry said, “that the op today went well. That’s a relief.”

Claudia forced a smile. Everything was being judged differently now—relief came with the successful removal of more burnt skin, not with the finding of lost keys, or sinking into bed after a stressful day.

Now all she could think was: How much is going to be left of her beautiful face? How damaged are her muscles, her tendons, her hand, her arm, her lovely skin?

How severe is the pain going to be?

Henry said, “Can we get you some tea or coffee?”

She looked at him and wondered what she could possibly say to him, or Dan, that would make any sense of this. There was so much they didn’t know, where would she begin? Did she even want to?

“The police are at the house,” Dan told her. “It’s already been confirmed that it was arson.” He paused as Claudia flinched. “Did you have any idea that it might be?” he asked gently.

She let her eyes drift, not clear enough in her mind to know how to answer.

“Claudia,” he said, taking one of her hands. “We know who you are, and we know who . . .”

She turned to look at him. “What do you know?” she asked stiffly.

Henry said, “Your husband . . .”

She rose to her feet. “How do you know?” she demanded, glaring at them. “How long have you known?”

Henry replied, “Andee will be able to answer your questions, she’s the one who figured it out. DCI Gould at the station confirmed it . . .”

Claudia’s eyes flashed. “I don’t know him. He’s making things up.”

“Claudia,” Dan said, gently but firmly. “We need to help the police find out who was behind this.”

He was right of course, but she just couldn’t seem to break free of the anger, the outrage that they’d all known who she really was and had never told her. Did he have any idea how humiliating that was? How patronizing and deceitful?

Was it even important?

All that mattered was her mother, but it was easier hanging on to this fury than it was to try and deal with her guilt.