‘And so your collective desire to fix the mess –’

‘Yes,’ I say quickly, knowing what’s coming, unable to stop looking at it, to move away, like it is a fast train approaching me. I’m frozen.

‘That is what led to the second murder?’

‘Yes,’ I say quietly, looking at the blank space in the public gallery. ‘Yes.’

59.

Then

Cathy

It’s three days since Evan joined the partnership. It’s late. Cathy is the only one left at work. She has two tasks left to do: check where they are against their target for August and read a report on probiotics for dogs that’s come in.

Maria walks into the backroom. Cathy is surprised to see her there, both because it’s late but also because it is the week their parents usually go into hiding. ‘You’re here,’ Cathy says. She is tired, is three coffees down, not sleeping well. Tom surely knows she’s keeping him at arm’s length, but he hasn’t said anything.

‘No rest for the wicked,’ Maria says lightly. ‘This need checking off?’ she says, gesturing to the prescription food. Cathy nods.

They work in companionable silence for a while. The room is quiet around them, the night sky dark beyond the window. There is a strange atmosphere, Maria’s busyness almost deliberately studied, and Cathy mimics her, going through their balance sheet robotically.

‘I thought I’d help,’ Maria says after a few more minutes. ‘Now – show me the profit and loss.’

‘No, I …’ Cathy stammers. ‘It’s fine. I’ve just finished it. I don’t want to have to do it again.’ She rubs at her forehead.

‘But what about –’

‘Mum. It’s fine.’

Maria blinks, staring at Cathy. ‘It’s just worry,’ she says.

Cathy crosses the room towards her mother. ‘It makes us have to do everything twice,’ she says quietly. ‘I know where it’s come from …’

Maria freezes, saying nothing, her gaze on the floor. ‘Right,’ she says.

‘We’re all fine,’ Cathy says. It’s a lie, but it’s an important one. ‘We are fine, the practice is fine – you know?’

Maria nods quickly, still not saying anything. They don’t broach the Rosie topic, not directly. That’s Cathy’s own battle to put to bed, she guesses.

They work together in silence for a while longer. ‘It was my only job to keep you all safe,’ Maria says quietly, after several minutes. She says it to the wall, not looking at Cathy.

‘I see,’ Cathy says quietly. ‘Well, we all feel guilty about that.’

‘You shouldn’t,’ Maria says.

‘Neither should you.’ Cathy may have returned the sentiment but, inside, her heart is singing. You shouldn’t. Two simple words to heal a twenty-year-old wound.

‘I won’t tell you that these need doing,’ Maria says when she leaves, waving a stack of referrals.

Cathy can’t help but laugh. ‘Right,’ she says. ‘I can see you’re reforming.’

‘Never,’ Maria says, coming closer to Cathy and ruffling her hair. ‘Never. Anyway – best go to my calligraphy class.’

‘You’re learning calligraphy?’ Cathy says, thinking of the swirl of her name on the box.