‘I’m sorry, Dom. Please forgive me?’ Tears welled, her lower lip trembling.

‘I just need to know what’s going on, Lizzie. You’re my wife – we shouldn’t have secrets.’ Now removing his other hand, he brushed away the tears on her cheeks with his fingertips.

‘It’s a long story, Dom. And I’m so tired.’

‘There’s no rush.’ He stood up and, taking her hand, pulled her across to the sofa. ‘But at least make a start now.’ His eyes – kind, trusting – focused on hers.

Where should she begin?

‘I haven’t told you everything,’ she said. ‘Because I didn’t want to ever speak about him – if I didn’t talk about any of it, it wasn’t real. It didn’t happen. It was the only way I could cope, the only way I could move forwards, get any semblance of a life after a dreadful childhood. I’m sorry I didn’t confide in you, I really am.’

‘I understand, I do. Really.’ Dom gave her a reassuring smile. ‘So, who is this William Cawley? Why did this letter set you off?’ He held out the crumpled paper.

‘He’s my father. Birth father.’

‘Okay.’ Dom nodded gently. ‘I didn’t realise you even knew who your father was.’

‘Oh, I knew, unfortunately.’

‘What had he been in prison for?’

The question Lizzie had dreaded.

‘When I was eight, I was taken into care. And not long after, he abducted a young girl and killed her.’

Saying the words out loud made her feel sick to her stomach. Seeing Dom’s shocked reaction brought bile into her mouth.

‘See why I didn’t want to acknowledge his existence?’

‘God, Lizzie. That’s some heavy shit.’

‘Quite.’ Lizzie attempted a weak smile. ‘And now he’s out, he’s free, and I needed to come here to see if he’d returned. I wondered if he’d come back for me.’

‘And?’ Dom looked worried. Lizzie didn’t want to alarm him, but now she’d been honest, a weight had been lifted and she felt the need to share the rest.

‘He’s here. Nearby. I met him yesterday.’

‘Jesus, love. Was that a good idea? I mean, you don’t know him, don’t know what years’ worth of prison would’ve done to him.’

‘I know. I was aware it was risky.’

‘Why? Why put yourself through this?’

‘Closure? Some kind of explanation. The truth. All of that, really.’

‘The truth? About what?’

‘About my alleged abuse – the reason I was taken away from him, about Jonie Hayes’ abduction and murder. And to ask him where he disposed of her body.’

‘Oh, my God. And what makes you think he’d tell you these things? Or what he says will be fact? He’s had years to concoct whatever narrative fitted – his version may not be the truth, Lizzie.’

‘I know that. I guess I thought I’d know the truth if he told it to me – that I’d see it in his eyes. Ridiculous, I know,’ she said, shaking her head.

‘So, you’ve spoken to him now. What conclusion have you come to?’