A white butterfly fluttered across the windscreen – but when I glanced again to see it fly to freedom, it had disappeared. I had a horrible feeling that I had just destroyed it. Annihilated for simply being in the wrong place at the wrong time. I was starting to realise this wasn’t all just a horrible mistake.

Chapter Twenty-Two

That night, after I’d read stories, sung songs, warmed endless milk and kissed fat cheeks, trying desperately to pretend everything was absolutely normal, that Daddy was away for work again, that I was actually sane, I wrapped a blanket around myself and went alone into the dark. I sat on the bench beneath the magnolia tree, now bare of its petals, and listened to the gentle popple of the pond as the frogs broke the surface; I thought that this night-time peace was one of the things that had made my isolated life here worth it.

I had been so lonely recently in the presence of my husband. I thought about the fact that now he was not here, it didn’t feel wrong.

There was a soft crunch of gravel underfoot; my head snapped round. And then he was there, stealthy as the cat he had entered the garden without me realising; he was standing to my left.

He stood beneath the stone archway where the roses grew in summer. My breath caught in my throat and my heart began to race until I had to forcibly quell it. There were so many things to say and yet nothing at all. I didn’t want to sound recriminatory and yet there were only recriminations. I was stupidly glad that he had come, although I knew I shouldn’t be; and yet so hurt and confused that I didn’t know where to start.

Why did you vanish? Why did you threaten me? Why did you come near me in the first place?

Questions flooded my head and yet I stayed silent. I stared at him as he leaned back against the wall, contemplating me. In the half-light it was hard to see him properly. With a pain like a hammer striking home I realised the only thing I wanted to do was reach out and touch him – and yet I was still so angry I wanted to scream. Worst of all, I was furious with myself for feeling like this.

In the end I said, ‘Have you come to hurt my children? Because you’ll have to hurt me first.’

‘I’m sorry.’ His voice was low and hoarse, and he seemed more unsure than I’d known him before.

‘Great. Thanks for the apology.’ I stood up. ‘Please, will you go now?’

My legs were unsteady because I’d been sitting for so long. He crossed the gravel in two strides and I stepped back quickly, out of his reach, almost overbalancing in my haste to get away.

‘Please, Rose. I am really sorry. I just can’t—’