‘… we give you thanks for this wonderful meal, expertly prepared by Mr Scott, and thanks for our health and happiness.’ He takes a second, his tongue flicks out, runs over his lips. And he gives me the smallest wink. ‘We ask that you bless the food and drink before us and continue to watch over us …’ His smile grows, with each word he rocks his head left to right. Could I oust him now, just kick him out? I already know the answer. He wouldn’t walk in here without a plan and the photos are his insurance policy. ‘… we are all grateful to be enjoying this meal. Thank you for this exceptional company, a snapshot of a happy and healthy family …’ A snapshot? He’s toying with me, threatening me in front of my family. ‘… and this wonderful patch of weather. We are also grateful for the recent justice served in relation to the fire and pray that you continue to hold those that would harm us accountable for you are our saviour and our judge. Amen.’

‘Amen,’ Gabe and July repeat. Evan and I remain silent.

‘That was lovely, Hudson. You’ve got a way with words,’ Gabe says.

‘Thank you, that’s just so kind of you to say. It’s my parents – they always insisted I speak the Queen’s English and have good manners.’

‘Well, you’ve got two ticks from us,’ Gabe says, the hopeless sycophant.

‘How old are you, Hudson?’ I ask.

‘I’ve just turned twenty-one,’ he says, and you could believe it, except I don’t. He passes for early twenties with a clean shave and his hair neat, but I know he’s twenty-six, or at least that’s what he put on his patient declaration at his first appointment. He also had to show ID, which means he’s got a fake driver’s licence or passport for his Cormac persona. ‘I know that’s a little older than July, but I think you would both agree, she is remarkably mature for her age and four years isn’t so great a gap.’ I catch the blush creeping up July’s cheeks as she stares down into her food. ‘My dad met my mum when he was nineteen and she was sixteen and they’ve been married for thirty-two years.’

Evan’s head turns towards Cormac. ‘You said they were overseas for their thirtieth wedding anniversary?’

‘Oh, of course, I meant to say that they’d been together for thirty-two years but married thirty.’

Then Evan looks down at his food, a frown on his face. He’s not fooled.

Chapter Twenty-Five

TWENTY-FIVE

AFTER DINNER, I STAND in the lounge window and follow Cormac with my eyes as he crosses the street. Lights flash on a car as he unlocks it. A white Toyota. I send a message.

What the hell are you playing at Cormac?

Wrong person, he sends back.