Alice shook her head. ‘No. She’ – she pointed to Alice Barnes – ‘is Brenda.’ She gave a huff of exasperation. ‘The other woman is me. I don’t know why you don’t believe me. It’s obvious she’s me – with blonde hair and a decade younger – but she’s me.’

Tom’s vision swam. He wanted to believe her – it would make everything much simpler – and for a moment he almost did.

‘No,’ he said. ‘I don’t know what’s going on, but you’re lying.’

‘Don’t call me a liar.’

‘Alice—’

‘No. Don’t call me a liar.’

‘Do you want to know why I have this photo?’

She nodded.

‘I’m putting together an album for your birthday. Old-fashioned paper one. And so I asked your friends for photos of you from before I knew you. Nellie and Maddie. They sent me plenty, including this one.’

‘OK.’ She folded her arms. ‘I need a beer. You want one?’

He did, desperately. ‘Sure.’

She walked into the kitchen. A few minutes later – no doubt she was taking some time to compose herself – she came out with two bottles of beer. She passed one to him.

‘So, you were saying. You went behind my back to get photos from my friends.’

‘I was doing something nice. Nellie wants to get back in touch by the way. Anyway, here are the photos she sent.’

He handed her the phone and watched her scroll through the photos. The beer was cold and necessary and he took a long swig, then another.

‘Well,’ she said, and put the phone on the table. ‘I see what you mean. Their friend – Alice Barnes – is in the photo with me, which means I’m the other woman.’

She caught his gaze and held it. Her eyes were different, hollow and empty. A chill ran through him.

‘I’m Brenda,’ she said. ‘You got me, tiger.’

He couldn’t process what he was hearing; since he’d seen the photo he’d known something was wrong, but he’d been sure there was an explanation of some sort.

A long lost sister. A name change. Mistaken identity.

But to hear her confirm she was not Alice Barnes, that she was someone else entirely – it wasn’t possible.

But it was happening.

‘You’re Brenda?’ he said.

‘Damn straight, mate,’ she said. Her voice had changed.

She had an Australian accent.

‘But,’ he paused, ‘I don’t get it.’

‘No, you don’t.’

On the table his phone started to ring. She picked it up.

‘Roland,’ she said. ‘Your fucking idiot brother.’

‘Give it to me.’

‘I don’t think so.’ She touched the screen and the call ended.

‘Hey. That’s my phone.’

She threw it onto the grass. ‘Go and get it.’

He started to get to his feet, but his legs felt heavy and he slumped back into his chair. His hands were starting to go numb and his vision was fading.