Lizzie walked to the side of Billy, their backs to the sun, her head down, looking at the driveway, which had now gone from gravel to a dusty, muddy track. She felt trickles of sweat running down her back. Lizzie sensed Billy was watching her as they walked. He hadn’t spoken a word yet – not even hello. One of them had to break the silence soon; it was uncomfortable. Why had he come if he wasn’t going to speak?

Impatience – her downfall – took over. ‘So, do you have anything to say? Anything you want to get off your chest?’

‘Like?’ he asked, simply.

Lizzie bristled. Was he really going to make this as hard as possible? Make her drag every last word from him? ‘Like, why did you do it?’ She turned to look at him directly now, wanting to see his reaction.

‘Do what, exactly?’ A frown wrinkled his forehead.

A loud huff left Lizzie’s mouth.

‘I’m not trying to be awkward, Eliza. But you need to be more specific.’

Hearing herself being called Eliza caused a strange sensation to wash over her. It didn’t sound right. Didn’t sound familiar at all, although she guessed she must’ve been referred to as Eliza at some point when she was little. For as long as she could remember, she’d told everyone to call her Lizzie before officially changing her name by deed poll at sixteen. She’d taken on the surname of the last people to have fostered her: the Brenfields. She’d liked their name more than she’d liked them, but they’d been decent enough.

‘Fine. Is this specific enough?’ she said before launching into one question, then another, and another, all of them suddenly spilling out of her like an erupting volcano. ‘Did you kill my mum? Did you abuse me as a child? Did you abandon me? Why did social services take me away? Did you kill Jonie Hayes? Where is her body? Why didn’t you let her poor parents know where their dead daughter was? How could you do this to me? How could you murder a child?’

Breathless, she stopped and rested against a tree, tears falling down her cheeks. Sobs filled the quiet countryside lane. Billy laid a hand on her shoulder.

‘Shhh, shhh. It’s okay. I get it, there’s a lot of questions you want answered. I understand you’ve had years and years of hearing all the horrible things I was meant to have done, years of building up enough hatred for me to last a lifetime.’

His voice was smooth, comforting almost. But Lizzie knew she mustn’t let him manipulate her. She had to stay strong, dig deep to find out the truth. ‘So? Go. Answer away,’ she said, her voice monotone and cold.

Billy gave a short, sharp laugh. Lizzie’s blood chilled. What the hell was funny?

‘I might have forgotten the running order now.’ He smiled as he backed up, creating some distance between them. ‘You may have to prompt me, but I’ll give it a go.’