“I truly didn’t mean it to happen,” Anna said, and in that moment, she crumbled, and her voice shook, and Sam gave a muttered curse and got up to pull her into another clumsy hug.

Lizzie stood up as quietly as she could. She wanted to slip away, unwilling to spectate on this family tragedy anymore. It felt horrible and intrusive. She knew the police would want to question her but that could wait. She already knew she wouldn’t press charges against Anna. The whole hideous mess would hardly be helped if she did; as it was, Anna would have to live with what she had done for the rest of her life.

Arthur looked up and for a moment their eyes met but he said nothing, nothing at all, and Lizzie turned and walked away, out into the daylight that felt like another world.

Back at The High, Lizzie found both Jules and Avery waiting. She took one look at them and burst into tears.

“I’ll run you a bath,” Jules said. She couldn’t deal with tears; it was left to Avery to enfold Lizzie in her arms and soothe her like a child while she poured out the whole story.

“Is it over now?” Lizzie finally pulled away from Avery, pushed the hair back from her hot face and wiped her eyes. “It has to be over because otherwise how can it have been worth it?”

Avery, her face full of sorrow, stroked Lizzie’s hair just like her grandmother had done when she was a child. “I don’t know,” she said regretfully. “I hope so.”

Later Arthur rang. The police had come, he said, and Anna had broken down completely. He and Johnny were bearing up as well as they could. They both wanted to see her, but in a little while, when Johnny was stronger.

“Any time,” Lizzie said. She could barely breathe, it felt as though there was so much she wanted to say. “Come any time.”

A fortnight went by. Lizzie went to the local art class. She was worse than even she had anticipated, utterly unable to draw anything recognisable though she had better success with abstract painting. No one seemed to care, though. They were just pleased she was there, which she found rather nice. She went to yoga, which wasn’t at all like the class at her London studio but was absolutely fine all the same. She found a piano tuner and a gardener, neither of whom posted photos of her on social media. Avery suggested that she should get some exercise by walking a dog for the Blue Cross shelter nearby. Lizzie chose a miniature spaniel with sad eyes called Perry whose previous owners had had to give him up when they had twins. Two days later, Perry moved into The High. The two of them got into a routine of sorts; Lizzie found it soothing.

And then, one afternoon, Arthur was there. Lizzie was playing with Perry in the garden when the dog gave a tiny yip and barrelled over to the gate where he then sat, tail wagging in the leaves, begging for attention.