‘I spent the half an hour before I called you deleting his emails,’ Frannie says. ‘I deleted every one off the Gmail server on his phone. When I was doing it I found –’ She swallows, a tiny, almost imperceptible movement, but neither of her siblings misses it. Joe unconsciously braces his shoulders. He knows something’s coming. Another confession, in a whole line of them. ‘I found that he’d used a site to fake legal documents,’ Frannie says. ‘That look like they’re from a family court.’

Cathy lets out a breath through the side of her mouth. It makes a whistling sound in the quiet. ‘So he was never going to be able to take Paul. If the documents were fake.’

‘So there’s no trail,’ Frannie insists, leaving the rest unsaid: So I didn’t need to kill him.

‘You still let us be complicit with you in something we didn’t know the full facts about,’ Cathy says. ‘We didn’t know it was murder. This began as a hit-and-run. And now it’s – it’s this – this grotesque, awful …’ When Joe turns to look at her, he’s surprised to see she is near-vibrating with rage, almost the exact same way Frannie was trembling with fear when they went to help her on that night. Joe reaches to straighten one of the fridge magnets – the Juliet Balcony in miniature form.

‘Look. There’s no paper trail,’ Frannie repeats. ‘No courts.’

‘I find it hard to believe a word you say,’ Cathy says icily. Joe looks at her in surprise.

Joe gets angry all the time, but Cathy never does. Joe glances at her just briefly and considers where her limit is. What she’s capable of. What the future holds for Frannie.

‘You’ve killed somebody,’ Cathy shouts. ‘Somebody you knew. And you’ve fucking roped us in. And you deleted emails off a phone – not a server.’

Something satisfying seems to release itself in Joe. He’s glad she’s finally blown her top.

‘It was the server, I was careful. They haven’t come after us yet, have they?’

‘Frannie. Fucking hell,’ Cathy says. ‘You’re a fucking idiot.’

‘I’m sorry,’ Frannie says, looking up at both of them. She shrugs so helplessly. ‘I thought – I just … it’s all for Paul. It’s misguided, but it is all for him. He wouldn’t want to be split between Italy and here – can you imagine? In a foreign country? Where he knows nobody?’ She wipes at her nose. Her finger comes away wet. ‘Believe me, anything you say to me, I’ve thought myself. And worse.’

Cathy deflates, right then and there, her temper already spent. Frannie turns to Joe. ‘I thought I would lose Paul,’ she protests. ‘Neither of you actually has a clue what that feels like.’ Her eyes flash, then she looks at Joe, her brow wrinkling. ‘Sorry,’ she adds. Anger begins rumbling in Joe’s body, a soft thrum at first, like the new bubbles in a boiling kettle. Not only is she using this against him now, but he is no longer trying for a baby because of her.