‘She didn’t say anything; she just took him away. I ran back to bed and pulled the cover up. When she came back, she pulled my cover down and said she would kill me if I told.’ Sorrel’s voice drops to a whisper. ‘I wet the bed.’

Eve lowers her face to Sorrel’s. ‘You don’t need to tell us anything else, my darling.’

‘I tried to tell you about him not being able to breathe, I really tried, but you didn’t let me say.’

‘Oh, sweetheart,’ Eve sounds desperate and sorry at the same time, ‘I thought you meant when he was drowning. It was making you upset, so I stopped you. I’m sorry.’

She tried to tell me too, Melissa remembers, but I’d thought the same as Eve; I hadn’t allowed Sorrel to finish either.

It’s agonizingly simple to work out what must have happened next from Izzy’s point of view: when her first plan for Sorrel didn’t work, the memory loss must have been a gift. No wonder she wanted to stay close to the family. She must have been watching Sorrel all this time; watching and listening for the first hint of her memory returning, as it did today. She would have framed the fall as a terrible accident and they would have all believed her. Melissa grips the arms of the chair tightly; her hands are sweating.

Grace pushes herself away from the wall. She touches Eve lightly on the shoulder, goes to the fridge and, taking out a jug of lemonade, she collects three glasses and leaves the room.

Sorrel wriggles off Eve’s lap, takes Poppy’s hand and walks out of the kitchen, pulling her sister after her. Poppy rolls her eyes at Charley but she doesn’t let go of Sorrel’s hand. The policewoman follows, Melissa thinks, to check that Sorrel’s really all right. Charley and Blake hurry after them.

The room is quiet. If Eve shouted or screamed it would be fair; if she wanted to kill her, she would understand. After a few minutes Eve lifts her head; she looks bereft rather than angry, confused as though nothing makes much sense.

‘I can’t understand why Izzy had to kill Ash.’ Eve’s face is white. ‘Even if I could, I don’t think I’d be able to forgive her. I know she suffered at Paul’s hands, but—’ She is unable to continue.

‘I don’t know why either,’ Melissa stumbles over her words. ‘I’m sorry. I’m so very, very sorry, though that sounds pitiful. Ridiculous. I had no idea, none. I don’t think I know anything any more—’

‘Well, I suppose I know two things.’ Eve stands up.

Melissa waits, head bowed.