Michael’s shoulders hunch forward and his voice drops two octaves. ‘I told you. Lorna was my little pet, just like that doggy is yours. And for her to leave … it was the worst betrayal. She can’t get away with it. Not while I’m still breathing.’

‘Please,’ I say. ‘My dog is sick. He could die.’

‘Just stay where you are. Stay right there and wait for Lorna. When she comes, do everything you’re told. And you might just come out of this okay. You don’t want to end up disappearing like your real mother. Right?’

More tears come. ‘What did you do to her?’

‘They never found your mother’s body,’ says Michael. ‘Did they? You know that part. So for all the world knows, she could still be alive. Nothing to suggest otherwise. But you know, I’ve got acres of woodlands out there. Acres. If I ever wanted to hide a body, that’s what I’d do. I’d hide it out there. Chop her up first and scatter the limbs around. I don’t think I’d ever get caught if I did that. Sit yourself down, Liberty, there’s a girl.’

I sit.

‘Let’s wait for Lorna to arrive,’ says Michael, closing and locking the turret room door. ‘This is the best view in the house.’

Once upon a time …

I woke to Cat Cannon’s loud voice, raised to screeching pitch.

‘WHERE IS SHE, MICHAEL? WHERE IS ANNALISE?’

Whoa. I felt early-morning sun on my eyelids, bright and warm, and a downy duvet over my bony body.

I sat on the edge of my single bed, trying to get a handle on what was going on.

‘She did stay here.’ Cat’s voice shattered into heartbreaking howls. ‘What are you doing with these girls, Michael? What are you doing with them?’

I tiptoed down the stairs, my Michael Reyji Ray T-shirt hanging over bony legs.

Cat was in the hallway, hands on hips, lips bleeding red lipstick, eyes bloodshot. She looked unusually svelte in a Vivienne Westwood spikey shoulder suit, pale skin glimmering under Michael’s chandelier.

Michael’s face was inches from Cat’s, furious. He wore striped pyjama bottoms and a shabby grey T-shirt, white-blond hair sticking up around his head.

Cat was equally furious, glaring back at him.

Seeing me on the stairs, Michael said: ‘Go back to bed, Lorna.’

Cat turned to me then, eyes huge and desperate. ‘Lorna. Is Annalise here?’

‘She was,’ I said. ‘But she left. Michael asked her to leave.’

Cat spun back to Michael. ‘You fucking liar. You LIAR. I knew it.’