I type in Sarah’s name, her surname, her date of birth. I keep going and going, trying to find something to piece reality back together. Everything about Sarah was false; her whole world was constructed upon lies and pretence. And at the centre of those lies was the fantasy about her parents. Seemingly the root of it all. The person who sent that terrible text: is this the secret they didn’t want me to know?

I don’t know how I manage, but I find them.

The newspaper reports, from eighteen, twenty years ago.

I know as soon as I see them, this is it.

Sarah’s mother died in 2001.

Sarah’s father died in 2003. In prison.

The dates are connected, not a coincidence. It is one final horror on top of all the others.

As the pieces come together, I feel the last thread of my mind stretch to breaking point.

Sarah’s dad was in prison for murdering Sarah’s mum.

Chapter 33

BACK THEN

There are lots more visitors to Prin’s house now. All kinds of people traipsing in and out.

Jane has gone again. Not back home. For some reason (as Prin is starting to pick up now), she can’t go back to her own house or her own mummy and daddy. Something happened there. A very bad thing. So now that she’s been allowed to come out of the hospital, Jane has gone to another house, to stay with another family for a while. Just until all of this mess can be sorted out, Daddy says.

Meanwhile a psychologist wants to talk to Prin.

They actually have to go to her office for the talk, to a big building forty minutes’ drive away. Prin and Mum and Daddy. The building is grey and the lady’s office itself has toys in it, plus loads of paper and felt-tip pens. Prin supposes this is because this lady talks to lots of families, and the toys and pens are to keep the children busy.

The lady says she first wants to talk with all of them together. Mum and Daddy and Prin. Then she will talk to Prin on her own. She asks whether Prin would like to play with anything. Prin asks for the paper and pens.

To begin with, Prin just lets Daddy talk. He’s the best at talking in their family.

‘No,’ he tells the lady, ‘we didn’t tell her what happened. We thought it best not to tell her any of it. Prin – she … our daughter would have just thought her cousin was coming to stay for the summer. We didn’t tell her any more than that. I mean, would you?’

The lady’s face looks rather serious at these words. Prin lowers her head back down and carries on with what she is doing, which is drawing a picture.