Clover lay her head back against the copper bath and looked out – set now in darkness, she had a clear view through the glass wall and living room picture window, down to the town and lake. Lights twinkled prettily on the water. She could see the top of the town’s Christmas tree down by the church. It looked almost like they could hop, skip and jump their way down there on the snow-festooned roofs of the chalets that lay in tiers below them.

She sighed, forgetting for a moment the absurdity – the perversity – of the current situation. She had acted before she’d been able to think, opening up the taps and filling the tub while he’d showered; he’d been in there so long, he wouldn’t have heard anything at all of what she was doing through here.

In the silent pitch, they could hear only each other – the sound of his body shifting restlessly on the sheets; the melodic rippling of the water as she stirred too. She listened to him breathing. He wasn’t anywhere close to falling asleep. She moved her legs in the water, knowing he couldn’t help but hear the sounds of her bathing. They both knew that at some point she was going to have to get out of this bath.

‘. . . Why are you doing this?’ His voice was quiet. Flat. For the first time ever, he sounded defeated.

‘Because I don’t believe you did it.’

He sighed but offered no protest. He sounded too worn out to argue further.

‘. . . You couldn’t even look at me when I’d been beaten.’

She heard the sound of his breathing pause.

‘You apologized for bruising me just because you gripped my arm a little too hard – and you hate me, so I know how hard it must have been for you to do that, but you still did it. I remember what you said to me. You said, “I’m many things. But I’m not that.”’

He didn’t reply.

‘Those aren’t the actions of a man who did what she’s accusing you of . . . She’s lying.’

There was a long silence before he turned over to face her. The moon was shining high and bright in the mountains behind her, silhouetting her into darkness.

‘Yeah? Well, I can’t prove I didn’t do those things. And who’s going to believe me if it’s my word against hers? I’m the bad guy, and everyone knows it.’

‘Are you, though? Yeah, you once did a terrible thing.’

He waited for her to say something more. She didn’t.

‘. . . But?’ he prompted.

‘That’s right, there is a but – you did a terrible thing but there was a reason why. I know there was. Tell me why you did it? Why is Amy lying about you? Why are you letting her lie about you?’