Michael hesitated. ‘Listen, she might be.’ He put a hand on my shoulder. ‘But I’m not the father. That’s total nonsense. No way. This is worse than the tabloids. She’s just trying to upset you, love. Make you jealous. She’s young. You’re the grown-up here, okay? I’ll talk to her.’ He gave me a quick disconnected kiss. ‘All right? Go back to your room.’

‘She has to leave, Michael,’ I said. ‘I mean it.’

Fury settled into Michael’s forehead and cheeks. ‘Of course she bloody well has to leave. That girl is in a whole world of trouble, Lorna. She’s going to be begging for her mad mammy by the time I’m finished with her.’

I felt uneasy then, noticing Michael’s balled fists and hunched shoulders. Michael had lost his temper with me many times, but I didn’t like the idea of him hurting someone else, especially someone so young. I imagined Annalise falling to the floor, protecting her pregnant stomach.

She’s a liar, a voice said. She’s not even pregnant. She’s a liar and she tried to hurt you. She deserves everything she gets.

I looked away from Michael. ‘Just a telling-off, right? You won’t hurt her.’

‘I’ll handle it how it needs to be handled. She’ll be out of this house today. And stop eating those crisps. You’ll end up with a fat arse.’

He patted my bottom and sent me upstairs, where I ate more junk food to ease my guilt.

Later that day, Annalise’s bedroom was empty. There was no mess of hippy and babydoll dresses over the bedroom floor. A decorator guy was stripping rose wallpaper from the walls and the linen had been torn from the bed, revealing a bare, unloving mattress.

‘She’s gone back to her mother,’ Michael told me when I found him downstairs eating breakfast. ‘I gave her a talking-to and we both decided she needed to leave the house.’ He threw his knife and fork noisily at his half-eaten fried breakfast plate and stood up.

‘Where are you going?’ I asked.

‘To the cottage. The renovations are really coming along out there, but I have to oversee every detail. Honestly, you turn your back for a moment on those guys and they do everything back to front.’

Michael stayed in the cottage all day. When he came back that night, he didn’t come to my bedroom. He didn’t come the next night either.

I knew I was in a lukewarm bath that was getting colder by the day. But it was freezing outside and I didn’t have the courage to get out.

Liberty

Skywalker is lying deathly still on the bed, his chest making the tiniest movements.

‘Good boy, Sky,’ I say, wiping at tears. ‘You’re such a good boy. Just … stay cool, okay? Stay cool.’