I watched your expression as you looked down at your phone, and then slowly put it away. And after that, when you folded me into a hug, and told me you were being an idiot, all my anger and distrust seemed unimportant. I let it all go, and let you look after me.

But the damage had already been done, I think. The slide had already started. I began to obsess over what you’d been saying to Dina and, unable to cope with those feelings, I drank. I couldn’t think of any other way of dealing with them.

On top of that, my fear that you didn’t really like my sober self grew. Everything you told me that you loved about me was really about Drunk Louise. The fun. The laughter. The way I made your life better. I knew it was Drunk Louise you’d fallen in love with.

So the more time we spent together, the more she bloomed. And although I’d got to know April better by then, in sober times as well as drunk, I developed a profound fear that she might decide I was boring, too. Which meant that I never turned up sober to see either of you.

I was aware, though, of a growing disconnect between Drunk Louise and me. I would occasionally be alarmed at things she’d done. Like the time she talked you into getting sexy in an office at your work Christmas party. Like when she and April stole a bottle of champagne from an unattended hotel bar in London. And there were increasing blanks in my memory, too. Whole hours or parts of evenings where I didn’t know what she’d done, and felt nervous about finding out.

I thought it was all OK, though. It was only later that I began to be afraid of her.

7

Lightman was making good progress with checking up on the Reakes family. He had so far established that neither had a criminal record, and that Niall Reakes had a strong and respectable internet presence through his drug rep work. He’d worked with several of the bigger pharma companies, and was currently listed with Pollai as a clinical sales specialist in the field of arthritis.

His LinkedIn photo was a classic black-and-white headshot, with Niall coming off as both impressive and approachable, an effect helped by his slightly chubby face and beaming grin. There was nothing to suggest any criminal involvement: no articles in which he featured, and no apparent sackings, though that didn’t mean they hadn’t happened. It wasn’t the policy of big firms to broadcast bad hires.

Louise Reakes had her own slick-looking website. It advertised her services as a wedding, event, film and TV harpist, with an impressive list of past work. It was a hugely visual site, with slowly fading images of spring sunshine and Louise herself playing while draped in long, floaty dresses.