‘Often, but I put up with everything because of Izzy, our daughter. Everything. I was scared I’d lose her if it came to a custody battle. He had the money to ensure victory, or so I thought.’

‘What is his relationship like with Izzy?’

‘He worships her, he always has.’ She is aware that her voice has softened which must be confusing, but she can’t help that. Paul’s love for Izzy is his one redeeming feature. ‘He has terrible faults, but he loves her dearly.’

‘Can you think of any reason at all why he might have taken Sorrel Kershaw?’

‘None at all, I honestly can’t see him ever harming a child.’

‘I suppose that depends on your definition of a child. You were technically a child when he first had sex with you, your maid’s technically a child.’

Beneath his eyes there is a little muscle that jumps; she can see it jumping as though he is hiding tension, as though while he is looking at her calmly he is also waiting for her to tell him something else. Then he leans back and his voice changes, becoming matter-of-fact once more.

‘There is something we are missing; some little detail I haven’t thought to ask. Let’s start all over again.’

Grace

There are no pictures on the wall, no ornaments or rugs, not even a book; Melissa’s bedroom is bleak, as if it belongs to someone who is frightened to show who she is. Grace stares at the single photograph on the dressing table, trying to reconcile the young bride smiling hesitantly from the silver frame with the damaged woman in the kitchen below.

Eve is sitting on the hard little satin sofa by the window, catching her breath after the stairs; a month of lying in bed has weakened her. Grace sits down beside her while they watch three policemen in the courtyard below inspect the smashed windows and dented panels of Melissa’s car. They walk to the garage, moving slowly, their leashed dogs beside them. The men are chatting a little, their shoulders hunched as if in disappointment. They’ve already looked around the house and garden, there’s not much left to search.