Sophie stared at me, so much pain in her eyes that it made me want to cry. It was as if her pain was my pain, like I was feeling its tremors and ripples in my own body. I almost said it to her, but I knew she’d think it was no more than a tactic.

‘Go on,’ she said eventually.

‘I’ve taken out a harassment order so they can’t contact me anymore.’

Sophie jumped up, tipping the bench she was sitting on backwards. It clattered loudly to the floor.

‘Why the hell did you do that?’ she shouted.

‘I didn’t have a choice!’

‘Yes, you did. You really did,’ she said, her face flaming with anger. ‘Stop playing the fucking victim. They went to the police because of Amber, not because of you. Because they’re frightened for you!’ She sank back down onto the bench. ‘I’m frightened for you.’ She wiped her hand through the air. ‘I mean, look at you.’

There was almost too much to react to. I sat there a second, words dry in my throat.

‘Sophie…’

‘I asked Mum about Esther, and she said it wasn’t true. That you were paranoid, borderline anorexic. But you’re not that now. You’ve just got to pull yourself together and stop acting like this…’

‘No, Sophie, you stop,’ I shouted. ‘What are you talking about? I went to the police, not them.’

Sophie’s shoulders slumped with sadness. Rage never suited her: even as a toddler, her tantrums would melt to a whimper within minutes.

‘They went last week. They reported Amber for coercive control.’ She looked at me warily. ‘I probably shouldn’t even be telling you this.’

‘Yes, you should! Coercive control? For fuck’s—’

‘No, I mean it!’ she snapped. ‘You’ve made it that way. Picking sides, making accusations. I hate it – every time I speak to one of you I feel like I’m telling tales. I’m trying to plan my hen night, my wedding – this should be a happy time for me, but you’ve hijacked it…’

‘When last week?’ I demanded.

‘What?’

‘What day did they go?’

Sophie looked confused. ‘I don’t know… Wednesday? Why does it even matter? The whole thing is completely effing ridiculous.’

Her words were drifting in and out – they went on Wednesday, and I went on Friday. Thursday was when Amber had brought up the whole idea. She was the one who said it first, wasn’t she? My thoughts were hard to marshal, blunted by sleep deprivation and alcohol.

‘Definitely Wednesday?’ I demanded. Sophie’s nod felt like a trap door opening, a hatch into a dark underworld I couldn’t yet explore or even acknowledge existed. Besides, I didn’t have time to engage with the implications: this could be my final chance to save my relationship with my sister.