Outside, Neil stands some distance from the crematorium, surrounded by friends and family. Scattered across the grass are pools of weeping youngsters hugging each other. And some distance away in the car park DI Beynon, and DS McKay are getting into their car.

I go to leave, feeling as if I’m intruding on the family’s grief.

‘Amelia!’

I turn to see Julia, huddled into her pink padded jacket, her plait poking from a pink beret. Finn is walking beside her. He’s taken the whole pink thing seriously, wearing a cerise jumper, and pale pink trousers. I should have made more effort, perhaps – but it felt right wearing Mum’s pink scarf around my neck.

‘How’s your dad?’ Finn asks, once we’ve agreed, not for the first time, how tragic Elise’s death is.

‘Improving,’ I say. ‘And you? How are you?’

‘Getting there, slowly.’

‘I think I owe you an apology, Amelia,’ Julia says, reaching out and touching my arm.

‘For what?’ But I know. I know exactly what she’ll say.

‘I shouldn’t have accused you of stabbing Finn. Finn’s told me it wasn’t you, and now we know it was Rosamund, so … well, I’m sorry. Can you forgive me?’

Her words echo in my ears. ‘It’s fine,’ I say, looking up at Finn, knowing he lied for me, knowing I’ll never be truly guilt-free. ‘We’ve all been through so much.’

‘Are you going back to the house?’ Finn asks.

I shake my head – the thought of going to the house where Rosamund killed her stepdaughter gives me chills. ‘I should get back.’

‘Oh, come. We don’t know anyone … safety in numbers?’

‘OK,’ I say, feeling I owe him. ‘I guess I could go for a little while. I’ll see you there.’

*

The house is full of people supporting each other, and every surface seems to have a photograph of Elise displayed on it.

Finn is with Neil and Neil’s parents, wrestling a canapé into his mouth, and I find myself alone with Julia.

Despite her apology, I’m still uneasy around her, though I’m not sure why. She’s giving me no reason to be.

We’re sitting by the window in two armchairs. And however hard I try to avoid it, my eyes are drawn to the oak coffee table in the centre, surrounded by sofas where yet more guests sit. Was that where Rosamund fell? Where she lost her precious baby?

‘I feel a bit intrusive being here,’ Julia says, and I turn to face her. ‘I never met Elise, and barely know Neil. I’m here to support Finn really.’

‘I didn’t know Elise very well myself,’ I say. ‘But I’m sure Neil appreciates our support.’

She nods, and pulls her plait over her shoulder, runs a finger over the intertwined strands. ‘You like Finn, don’t you?’ she says.