Rob had responded to her text almost immediately. He’d jumped at the chance to meet her. Lizzie had suggested they meet at the churchyard, but Rob asked her to go to his. After a fleeting moment of uncertainty, she agreed, telling him she’d be there in ten minutes.

During the brief car ride, Lizzie went over what she wanted to say and the questions she wanted answered. At this point, she wasn’t sure if he’d found out she was Eliza Cawley – and if he knew, what sort of response she could expect upon her arrival. If he didn’t already know, then he was about to get a shock.

Rob opened the door before she’d rung the bell. His face was solemn, fixed into a grim-looking expression.

‘Hi,’ Lizzie said, tentatively. He didn’t respond, just stood in front of her, staring. ‘Is it all right to come in?’

‘Sorry,’ he said, standing aside. ‘Yes, come on in.’

Lizzie stepped over the threshold and found herself in a small square hall, stairs on the left, and two doors going off to the right. Both were closed. They stood silently, awkwardly, in the hallway.

‘I’m sorry,’ Lizzie said. A glimmer of emotion flashed in his eyes. Lizzie was unable to identify whether it was hurt, anger, fear or sadness. But in that moment, it was clear he knew. Knew she’d kept her identity from him. Lied to his face. She wondered how she could repair the damage, then remembered her lines – the ones she’d been rehearsing on her way there. ‘I didn’t tell you who I was because I was scared, Rob. I was afraid of everyone’s reactions if they were to realise whose daughter I was. I didn’t like misleading you.’ She drew her lips into a smile, waiting for him to respond.

‘I get it. I don’t like that you did it, but I understand. Doesn’t stop me feeling as though you’ve conned me, or tried to trap me, though. Mum said you’re a journalist. Were you after some scoop, or something?’

‘No, Rob. I was after closure. I’m still looking for that. Searching for the truth.’

‘I’m not sure you’re going to find that here.’

‘Oh, I am determined I will.’

‘At what cost?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘There’s always a cost, Lizzie. Someone will suffer – truth or lies – things can still hurt.’

‘What is it that you know, Rob?’

He lowered his head. Then turned and walked to the first door, opening it and going through. Lizzie assumed he wanted her to follow.

‘Sit down. Wine? Or lager?’ he asked.

‘If it’s cold, I’ll take a lager, please.’ The heat in her throat needed cooling.

He disappeared and Lizzie took the opportunity to look around the room. It was like a drawing room, rather than a lounge – a large dark-wood desk stood in the far corner, bookshelves packed haphazardly with paperbacks lined two walls. Picture frames hung on the other two in diamond formations. Lizzie studied them. She continued even when Rob re-entered the room. He silently waited for her to finish.