He didn’t say anything to her, and she looked at him straight in the eyes.

‘Is that all you’ve got to say to me, Josephine? My mother is dead. I assumed that even you might have worried about how I was coping with that! She was murdered, remember?’

Josephine could hear the antagonism in his voice, the sarcasm that was dripping from every word he spoke. She wasn’t going to say anything that would give him reason to attack her again, as he had the last time she had seen him. She had not been willing to accept his conduct then, and she wasn’t prepared to accept it now. Even if he did have a right to call her out about her behaviour, that didn’t mean that he should do it. They were married and, no matter what had happened to them in the past, they had always loved each other.

‘I’m sorry about your mum, Michael. Of course I am. How can you even say something like that to me?’

She sounded so offended, so insulted by him. It was crystal clear to him now just how devious she actually was – had always been. He gave a low, mocking laugh. He was seeing her with fresh eyes. She looked wonderful – why wouldn’t she? Her whole life was taken up with her appearance, with repairing her make-up, making sure her eyebrows were plucked and shaped, that her lipstick was faultless. Her hair looked salon-perfect twenty-four/seven, and her nails were coloured, shaped and buffed with a diligence that had to be seen to be believed.

‘You’re a piece of work, Josephine, do you know that? In case you were wondering, your only daughter’s dead. Jessie had a massive heart attack today. Twenty-two years old, and her heart gave out. The man who had taken her, who had contacted you, if you remember, that man who you ignored, basically tortured our Jessie to death. She died in fucking agony waiting for someone to find her. Now she is gone from us, Josephine, like my old mum.’

Josephine knew that Michael was telling her the truth, but it was hard to take it all in.

‘I am waiting for some kind of reaction from you, Josephine. I just told you that your only child is dead, and nothing. Not a fucking word.’

He stood there, looming over her, and waited for her to say something – anything – to acknowledge her only child’s demise. But she didn’t say a word.