‘Then why the hell are you here?’ he shouted, pointing the gun at him.

‘Easy, lad!’

‘Answer me!’ It took physical energy not to let the anger pull the trigger – his forehead was wet with sweat.

‘Because Eliza knew!’

‘Knew what?’ demanded Murphy.

‘About me and Sara, what we . . . did together. She knew that . . . she knew that Jasmine is my kid!’

‘What you did together? You raped her!’

‘I didn’t! Mate, I swear to you. Sara was the one who came to me! And Jasmine knew —’

Murphy pressed the gun against Butch’s head.

‘Alright. Easy, mate, easy.’ Butch pushed himself upright as best he could, as far away from the gun as possible. ‘Listen to me. Will you just fucking listen?’

Murphy didn’t reply. His chest heaved.

Butch spoke quickly. ‘Last year, Jasmine went to Eliza. She told her what Sara had told her before she died: that I was her real dad, okay, but I didn’t rape her, alright? Sara wanted it. She wanted it.’ He talked faster as Murphy’s arm twitched. ‘And if you kill me, you’ll never know the truth, alright, so will you put that fucking thing down?’

‘Why would Jasmine go to Eliza?’

‘Because she wanted to get me charged, Murph! Because she trusts Eliza and wanted her help to throw me in jail! Eliza called me after, because she knows me better than that, she didn’t just take Jasmine’s word for it. I showed Eliza the letter . . .’ Butch’s eyes lit up. ‘There’s a letter! At home, an honest-to-God letter from Sara, admitting what she and I did. A letter to you! I wanted to give it to you, I really did —’

‘Then why didn’t you?’

‘Easy, lad, easy . . . Jasmine didn’t want me to. After I showed it to her, she begged me not to. I thought you deserved to know, but Jasmine said it would destroy you, that it would ruin your memory of Sara. Jasmine wanted me to say I’d forced myself onto Sara. She really wants Sara’s memory to be perfect. I don’t think you know how important that is to her.’

‘Sara was perfect,’ growled Murphy.

‘You know me, mate. You know I wouldn’t do that, bro’ said Butch. ‘Surely you know that. Even Eliza said she’d vouch for me, if Jasmine went to the cops or anyone. I’ve got the letter! Take me home and I’ll show you the bloody letter . . . I wish I could tell you we were drunk, or stoned, but . . . I don’t even remember where you were . . . it just . . . happened. In that moment, Sara wanted it to happen . . . and so did I!’

Murphy couldn’t grasp what he was hearing, it both touched him and missed him. He felt so alone. He realised, distantly, that this feeling was what Jasmine wanted to protect him from . . .