How does she know? What does she mean? I have a horrible feeling that Paula is going to reveal something I don’t want to know.

‘He’s a predator. He’s clever. Making women feel that they’re special and interesting. And yes, he did try it on with me. But do you know what? I’m your fucking sister and I didn’t.’ She’s crying. Paula’s crying. ‘God, I know we never speak since Mum and Dad moved, but that’s how it is. But if you’re in trouble, I’m there. Like you would be for me.’

I want to believe her, but there are so many questions. So much is swirling in my mind. I pluck one of them mid-thought.

‘So why the pictures? Why did he put you with … them?’

She wipes her nose on her expensive jersey top and she’s suddenly the little girl I grew up with.

‘He’s a liar, Caz. You know that. Wishful thinking? I don’t know. But the fact that you’re even questioning that shows you’re still fucking invested in him.’

It’s like a revelation. She’s right. Paula’s right. I’ve taken that journal as the truth, but he is a liar.

‘Everyone else is the liar, but not your precious Jack? Even now you know, you still think his word is gospel.’ She puts her hand on my arm. ‘He wanted to fuck me. He followed me and took pictures. Propositioned me. Sent me flowers. Gifts. But I never even kissed him. Yet he includes me in his harem. What does that tell you, Caz?’

I think hard.

‘How do I know that’s true?’

She pulls up her sleeve. She’s got a tattoo with the date of the wedding on it. Paula and Pat. For ever.

‘I met my partner that evening. I didn’t want Jack. Not then. Not ever. I met the person I was going to spend my life with.’

I remember the wedding pictures. I didn’t see her with anyone. Just a group of bridesmaids, giggling and drinking champagne. I suppose it could have been after I’d gone home, but I’m still not sure. But I’m grabbing at another query. The million-dollar one. The question that has driven me through this. Made me pursue Jack’s women. I could have understood anything but this. I savour the words.

‘Oh. So why didn’t you tell me? Why, Paula?’

Why didn’t she tell me? Why didn’t any of them tell me? If someone had just told me, if I’d had confirmation, even anonymously, it might never have come to this. Paula shakes her head.