Fran’s lips open and close again. Is this deliberate – his confusion, his … innocence? Is he lulling her into a false sense of security with his ‘It’s just me and you and where are all the others?’ Should she play along? Say she overslept too, make her excuses and then go back to her room for her suitcase? Would Damian let her out of the house? Maybe he’d let her get as far as her car, thinking she’s home free, before he launches an attack.

‘I … I genuinely don’t know.’

A frown forms between Damian’s dark brows. ‘Why are you lying?’

Fran glances at her handbag, six inches to the left of her feet. ‘I’m not.’

‘I think you are. What’s going on, Fran?’

She swallows nervously. ‘How do you know my name?’

‘I wondered when you’d ask me that.’

‘So?’

‘How about you tell me what’s going on first?’

She’s not sure if it’s the fact his eyes have softened but when Fran mentally flips a coin it lands ‘tell him everything’ side up. So she does. Or at least a version of the truth. She tells him that she woke in the night and overheard Renata telling Tom that Jenna was hiding out at her parents’ holiday home. That she ran up to her car and she followed them. She speaks quickly, her gaze fixed on her hands. If she pauses she’ll give Damian the opportunity to ask her why she was bothered about Jenna’s whereabouts, and she doesn’t want to do that. She tells him about Tom, dropping to the ground in the living room and how, when she went to help him, Renata hit her over the head. She speeds through the hours spent in the basement, Renata’s bloodied appearance, Kate’s slumped body and calling the police.

‘Then they turned up,’ she said. ‘Renata was arrested and Tom went to the hospital with Kate.’

She risks a glance at him. There you go, she mentally adds, no one knows that you murdered Jenna. You don’t have to kill me now.

‘Wow.’ Damian stares at her, his eyes wide, his mouth too. ‘Holy fuck. I knew she was a psycho but … Jesus.’ He shakes his head. ‘Is Kate all right? Will she live?’

‘I don’t know. I think so. The police couldn’t tell me much but they did say she’d gone into surgery.’

Damian rests his head in his hands and groans loudly. ‘Fucking, fucking, hell.’ He looks up again. ‘Is Tom all right? Are you?’

‘Tom’s okay. I’m …’ She frowns as Damian reaches into his back pocket and pulls out his mobile. ‘What are you doing?’

He taps away at the screen, completely ignoring her, then looks up. ‘Sorry. She’s been texting me all morning. She was worried when I said you’d disappeared.’