‘Xanthe was sitting next to him. She got up but oops she left her phone there. He picked it up and took the phone with him to work, then he took it home, stopping off at the bottle shop for a bottle of Chivas Regal. Without having to follow him, we found out what trains he takes, where he works and lives. We bought him another bottle of Chivas Regal to say thanks for finding Xanthe’s phone and he was so happy he invited us in for a cup of tea.’

I swallow hard, try to focus on driving, staying in my lane.

‘Then it was simply a matter of finding a piece of paper to print the image on, and finding a couple of empty bottles in his trash to start the fires. We stole the spare key for his car, put everything in his boot. It was really quite easy, and you were convinced, weren’t you,’ he says, letting out a laugh.

‘Genius,’ I say, because that’s exactly what he wants to hear. ‘You pulled it off. You sent an innocent man to jail.’

‘No, you sent an innocent man to jail,’ he says. ‘Now, eyes on the road, take the next exit.’

•

I barely speak for the next half an hour, I just follow his directions, occasionally wiping my sweaty palms on my jeans and trying to keep from crying. Evan’s phone feels warm in my pocket; the call is still going.

Finally, I speak again. ‘Your father, he had some very serious issues. Some people will never live a joyful and normal life,’ I say. ‘Even if he was alive, you wouldn’t have the happy family you think, Cormac.’

‘Shut up!’ he roars.

I fall silent once more. The only sound in the car is the quiet hum of the engine.

‘At the end of the road there is a gate. The padlock is open. Remove it and drive through.’

I stop, climb out and walk in front of the headlights. The air is crisp and my skin prickles. I open the gate, get back in the car and start down the gravel track.

‘Now drive up beside the house.’

I roll along gently. The headlights cut through the darkness, finally settling on an old weatherboard house. It looks as though it has been abandoned for half a century, the slate roof thick with lichen, trees and bushes crowding round it. Next to it is a paddock, and I see a flat, dark pond.

Then I see him. He steps out, stark in the headlights, and approaches the car. He opens the passenger door and the call ends.

‘Margot,’ he says. ‘So glad to see you. Hand me your phone.’

I hold it out to him. He takes it, stands up straight and pitches it out into the pond, then turns back to me.

‘Get out,’ he says.

‘Where are we going?’

‘Somewhere even quieter.’