After dinner, when the kids are on the couch in front of the TV, I decide I can’t wait any longer to talk to Gabe. I approach him as he’s doing the dishes. He’s just dried a pot and is opening drawers trying to figure out where it came from. I touch his shoulder and when he turns back, I point up and nod towards the stairs.

He takes the tea towel from over his shoulder and tosses it on the bench, then follows me out of the open kitchen-lounge area up into our bedroom.

‘What is it?’ he says, closing the door behind him.

‘It’s about the fire. Evan is worried it was one of his gaming friends,’ I begin. I explain the situation, the message Evan received.

‘He was crying real tears?’

‘Yes, real tears. He’s obviously shaken up, carrying around this guilt for the past week.’

‘Shit, that’s a heavy load for a kid to bear in silence. No wonder he broke down.’

‘It’s not just that,’ I say. ‘There’s a client I’m seeing. He’s a gamer, he drives a white Toyota, he drinks Chivas Regal and sees any number of disturbing images every day in his job.’

I can see his jaw working, chewing on this new information. His head tilts a few degrees, suggesting he’s sceptical.

‘And you think it might be this guy, this client?’

‘Well, I’m convinced, actually. I spoke to Simms.’

The scepticism slides from his face, replaced instantly by frustration. ‘Do you think that might be just a little irresponsible, Margot?’ He manages to keep his voice even.

‘Irresponsible? I’m protecting our family. I only asked for advice, I didn’t identify the client.’

He blows his cheeks out. ‘I just wish you had talked to me about it first. I don’t think you should be taking any risks over a suspicion.’

I think about Joe’s words. His dreams of hurting someone with a fire extinguisher, his drinking, the fact he could rationalise potential violence. But I know I can’t tell Gabe this. He’s a stickler for confidentiality. When we were first dating I was dragged through a tribunal. It was early in my career, after Peter. Because of Peter’s wealthy ex-girlfriend the story was in the media. I’ve been thinking about him so much more lately. I remember that day like it all happened this morning. Suddenly I’m back there racing towards him, telling myself that no one would blame me, holding my breath, flooring the car to beat a red light. The ringing was like a heartbeat. The ringing was all I had. Finally he answered, the voice instantly conjuring the man in my mind. Tall, thin, a tangle of dark hair, a little gaunt yet somehow still very handsome.

‘Peter, it’s Margot. I’m on my way.’