I walk slowly home and the sun is just about peeping through the trees. It’s still dark, but it’s light enough to cast shadows and to see the dew on the grass and the spider’s webs that decorate my bay trees. It’s easily light enough to see Pam Harding standing in the middle of my lawn.

Chapter Twenty

I sneak around the skip and through the gate at the side of the house and she doesn’t see me. Rover is already going fucking mad so I don’t have to worry about that. She’s shouting something.

‘Caroline, I know you’re in there. You’d better get out here right now or I’m coming in. Open the fucking door.’

I rush through the back door and upstairs and grab my dressing gown out of the bathroom and change into it. I go into the bedroom and rub some of the feather debris into my hair and onto the dressing gown. I open my own laptop and log onto my Facebook account. Then I go downstairs and open the front door. It bangs in my face as she kicks it.

She rushes at me and I stand my ground.

‘You’re going to be sorry you did this, Caroline. Very sorry.’

I fold my arms and we’re nose to nose.

‘I’m going to be sorry? You’re the one who wore my fucking wedding dress and slept with my husband in my bed.’

She takes a step backwards.

‘You posted the picture online. You.’

She goes to grab my hair but I hold her wrist. I twist it and pull her towards me.

‘No. I didn’t. That’s what he wants you to think. But it’s nothing to do with me. Can’t you see I’m in pieces here? I’ve just had to see that picture myself.’ I let her go and cover my face. ‘How do you think I feel? It’s really … really … affected me.’

She pushes past me and hurries into the kitchen. She sees my laptop and the picture. She looks in my internet history for Monica’s login. It isn’t there, of course. She even tries the drop-down login box to see if the auto text is there.

She turns and looks at me.

‘So it really wasn’t you? Only he said …’ I’m standing there in a scruffy dressing gown with feathers in my hair. She looks past me. ‘Jesus Christ, what the fuck is going on here?’

She cranes her neck to look at the towers of boxes, some of them opened randomly last night to locate the knives. I slump onto a chair.