‘We let Amber into our home, let her into Rachel’s life, but soon after she re-payed our trust by drip-feeding poison about us into her ears.’ My voice was rising now. ‘Manipulating her vulnerability. Plunging her into debt for a so-called healing retreat, where she was sexually exploited and abused…’

Nick’s gaze was fixed on me – was it admiration or fear I could see in his eyes? I let myself believe it was the former. Meanwhile, Maron was scribbling notes.

‘Hang on, hang on,’ he said. ‘We need to go through these incidents properly, have each of you write a statement.’

My whole body tingled with triumph. I had his buy-in, and the information Sophie had telegraphed back to me was more than enough to make a charge stand up. I could do this.

I hadn’t lost my touch with daughter number two. She’d been reticent when we met up yesterday morning, wary and monosyllabic. I’d expected it, her loyalty to Rachel was almost forged in the womb. I’d deliberately suggested breakfast at Delilah’s, a brunch spot we often visited – the familiar whoosh of the coffee machine and the smiling waitresses lulled her into a feeling of ease, made the occasion seem ordinary. When I’d planned it, I’d had no idea how much I would need the camouflage. Rachel was clearly spiralling out of control, downloading her spiteful stories about the state of her parents’ marriage with no thought for how hurtful it was for all of us. How destructive. When Sophie – poor, stricken Sophie – told me what she’d said, I let silence settle over us before I deigned to respond.

‘Your sister’s always struggled with her mental health,’ I told her calmly, one hand gripping the other under the table. ‘I’ve always done everything – everything – to protect you from it, but you’re a grown woman now, Sophie. I need you. So does she.’

‘She seemed pretty sure, Mum,’ she said. Another pause: I watched her start to crumple under my gaze. ‘Or… she believes it. She’s not just saying it.’

I let my eyes fill.

‘We had so much to deal with back then,’ I said, my voice a hoarse whisper. ‘You probably don’t remember how she’d starve herself, how unreasonable it made her. How much she fantasized.’

‘God, she didn’t eat, did she?’

‘She was a rake, Sophie – there was nothing of her! I was terrified of what she was doing to herself.’

‘Mum…’

‘That was her addiction back then,’ I said. ‘And now her addiction is Amber, the most dangerous addiction of all, it turns out.’ I reached across the table, caressed her arm. ‘She needs you, darling girl. She loves you more than anyone else in the world.’