‘She’s Catholic. Mum would rather die than kill herself,’ I said.

‘Unless she was helped,’ Emerald stated.

The idea that it may not be a natural death hit all three of us at the same time with cyclonic impact. Despite the fact that the soporific heat of a scorcher was already declaring itself, the morning air thick with abundant insects and birds, the menthol coldness of winter suddenly descended onto our garden. Mistrust banked up around us like a slow drift of snow, making everything icy and treacherous.

‘So, what were you doing here so early in the morning?’ Emerald asked me.

‘I came to give Mum a piece of my mind.’

‘Is that all you gave her? Remember what you said on the boat – that if you killed Mum you’d be out of the mental hospital in two to three years and then there’d be a fat book contract waiting?’ Emerald’s sharp accusation went into me like a blade. My skin became overly sensitised to every molecule of air, and my bare arms were definitely registering a threat.

‘I was being facetious!’ I pinned my older sister with a reproachful glare. ‘Besides, you’re the one who said you wanted to smother mother.’

Emerald snorted in disdain. ‘Oh, come on. You know I was joking. Besides, why are you letting Amber off the hook?’ she added. ‘The person you go to bed with says a lot about you; sleeping with your sister’s husband says that you are clearly a two-faced psycho.’

We were suddenly circling each other like Cold War spies. Newly orphaned, we three strong, capable, working mothers quickly reverted to little girls, bickering like spoilt brats.

‘Yes, I’ve done something vile and unforgivable, but I am not a psychopath. I’m sorry, but if anyone’s a psychopath, it’s Ruby,’ Amber shot back. ‘Or have you forgotten introducing us to “Kev”? Although, Emerald, you did say you have enough morphine to put a rhino to sleep. Ram sedative, that’s what you recommended. With a plastic bag full of gas and helium, to make it seem as though she’d killed herself.’

‘What?! You’re the one who knows how to induce multiple organ failure from poisonous flowers, Amber. Devil’s helmet, you called it. No antidote,’ Emerald counter-claimed.

‘Oh, and what’s my motive? I’m not the one with money troubles,’ Amber parried. ‘Alessandro told us how much debt your practice is in, Emerald. And what about Ruby’s baby? A new baby costs a fortune. Being cut out of Mum’s will is clearly the last thing you wanted, either,’ she said, turning to face me.

‘The will,’ I said, snapping us back to reality. ‘Mum’s solicitor is still on holidays. She told me she was going to deal with it after Christmas. Do you think she got around to signing the new version?’