Given this, did Zac ask Eliza to look for me there, and to try to strike up a friendship with me? It’s also possible – no, probable – that Eliza is another of his victims. And this could be true even if he has forced her to collude with him.

Does Zac know I am here now, in this house? All at once, I am consumed by the idea that this is a distinct possibility, despite Eliza saying he was in Edinburgh. I think of the hidden surveillance cameras in the house we shared in Cornwall, and his ability to monitor them in real time using the Internet. He has probably done the same thing here, so he can spy on Eliza and Alice. He could be watching me live, standing in Eliza’s bedroom. I am torn between my impulse to run and the intensity of my need to learn more. For myself and for Jane, and maybe for Eliza too. Above all, for Alice. Because how can she be safe with such a father?

I rush from the room, enter a bathroom on the same floor, flush the loo without using it, wash my hands without needing to, splash water on my face, compose myself.

I re-enter the kitchen. ‘I did get lost! Your house is beautiful. Very big, and a bit of a labyrinth, but extremely lovely!’

‘We like it.’

‘Do you mind my asking where you go for your hair? I really love it.’ Does she hear the falsity of this overbright guest voice?

‘He’s near Pulteney Bridge. I’ll give you his card. I used to be blonde, but I wanted a change – you can feel so frumpy when you spend all your hours looking after a child – but Guy is a genius with colour.’

I remember that flash of her long light hair in the hotel bar. Her admission is so open. For most people a change in hair colour isn’t a sinister disguise. It is simply what human beings sometimes do.

Eliza tops up my coffee. ‘You’re wonderful with Alice.’

I smile, trying to keep it light, keep it natural. ‘I love children – that’s why I love where I work. Alice is especially gorgeous.’

She touches my hand. ‘Sometimes you seem rather sad.’ She smiles wistfully. ‘Sorry to be so personal – I know what it’s like.’

‘Are you sad, Eliza?’

‘Sometimes. It makes me sound spoiled, to say that.’ A shadow falls across her face. ‘Zac is always saying . . .’ She stops herself.

‘You don’t sound spoiled at all. What is it that Zac is always saying?’

She starts to take a sip of her coffee but stops. Her hands are shaking. ‘I’m so lucky to have Alice.’

‘Well, Zac is right about that.’