Personally, I didn’t care that the evidence was mostly circumstantial, but solid proof would give me greater leverage. Sophie, Oliver – they were all I cared about. Lying about his work didn’t matter, even lying about going to prison. Although, who faked going to prison?

‘Hey, mate, that was a red light back there,’ said a man in lycra, powering along beside me.

‘Cool, thanks,’ I said, pulling away from him. I bunnyhopped onto the kerb at the next lights, cut across the road in front of a Toyota, pedalled hard.

If Zac had stolen from us, who cared? Committed fraud with our identities? I could live with that. But Sophie, Oliver … Bile in my gullet. I spat. If he’d …

The boom gates were descending up ahead on my left. I powered along the bike path, breathe, drove the pedals, rode on the rivet, spat.

Sophie. Oliver. Oliver. Sophie.

‘Running out of gas there?’ The lycra warrior was alongside me again, pulling ahead, pulling … nothing. I forced the cranks, raised my cadence, pulled ahead of him once more.

Murder was too extreme. But waiting years for Zac’s conviction for child abuse or, even worse, acquittal … that wasn’t going to happen either.

I looked over my shoulder – my aggressor had blown a fuse, gave me the finger.

I’d pay cash for the baseball bat from Highpoint Shopping Centre, wait under cover of darkness for Zac to emerge from Josh’s. His knees, his ankles, elbows, wrists …

I took the turn too quickly into Percy Street, nearly came off the bike, powered ahead.

The pièce de résistance would be his ball sacks: burst, bloody, pulverised.

I unclipped, opened the garden gate, heard running footsteps inside the house.

‘Daddy,’ Sophie said, opening the door, ‘Mummy’s hurt.’

Holy fuck.

Oliver’s head appeared. ‘She fell and bashed her neck, Dadda.’

‘Hang on.’ I got the bike through the door.

‘She’s in the bedroom,’ Oliver said.

‘I’m in here,’ Sarah said, laughing. ‘Don’t worry, hun, I’m fine.’

Sophie was at my legs, Oliver. Sarah was lying on top of the bedcovers, looked fine apart from – was that Sophie’s shower cap draped across her neck? Were those ice cubes inside it?

‘What happened?’

‘She was getting something from the top of the cupboard and fell over,’ Oliver said.

‘We were at school,’ Sophie said. She let go of my legs, climbed onto the bed, stroked Sarah’s arm. ‘You’ll be all right, Mummy.’

‘I know I will, darling. Mummy’s fine. I just need to rest.’

I sat next to her, reached out. ‘Can I have a look?’

She backed her head into the pillow. ‘Hey, kids. Do you think you could go to the kitchen and get me some fruit and a glass of water? You could even make me a fruit salad.’

‘Olly can do it,’ Sophie said. ‘I’m tired.’