“I wasn’t suggesting you give a sociopath another chance to destroy you,” Deirdre said. “But maybe you should talk—really talk—with your sister. I wish Caro and I still had the chance.”

“Cookie for Daddy,” Teddy said, running back into the room with a sealed packet in his hands.

“Sorry,” Juliet said to Deirdre. “I know you wanted privacy, but we bumped into a vending machine, and a certain someone’s a bit too good at spotting cookies.”

“That’s okay. We got to talk.” Deirdre patted Teddy’s head. “We need to get you back home. Daddy and Aunt Juliet need to talk.”

It was disturbing, watching Juliet have a normal conversation with another human. In my mind, she was forever the antagonist, swiping at Caroline, clawing at me, locking horns with our father. I’d seen her kindness to animals, but I’d always believed that was where her sympathies ended.

“It’s almost like you and Deirdre are conspiring together,” I said, after they left.

“She’s a tough character. I like that in a woman,” Juliet said. “How are you feeling, now that you’ve cheated death again?”

“Like I’ve been dragged through hell. Why do we never talk honestly to each other about anything?”

“It’s never fun to poke at raw wounds,” Juliet said. “That’s why we avoid it. But your weird voice mail made me think back to my trip to Paris. I’ve been talking about it with Deirdre. The timing was terrible—I had exams coming up—but Father insisted that I go. It was unusually generous of him. I should’ve guessed he’d have an ulterior motive.”

“There always is, with our father,” I said. “Now I want you to tell me what you remember about our mother.”