“How is Anna?” she asked instead.

Arthur grimaced. He took a mouthful of the lemonade.

“They’ve charged Anna with manslaughter,” he said evenly. He moved his glass in slow circles of the table. “Her defence team think they can get her off, though, by explaining how affected she was by Jessica’s death. They’re calling Amelia’s fall an accident that happened in the heat of the moment.” For a moment he was very still, then he sighed. “I’m not sure Anna wants to be found innocent, though. She’s broken down completely.”

“I’m very sorry,” Lizzie said. “Your family had already gone through so much,” she said. “It feels almost unbearable, except of course somehow you have to bear it.”

“We’ll get through it,” Arthur said. “We’re strong enough. It’s better to know the truth anyway. Like I said, secrets have a way of coming out in the end.”

“Yes.” Lizzie’s heart sank as she remembered the last secret of them all. She went over to the dresser, sliding open the drawer and taking out the little silver phoenix that had hung on the driving mirror in Arthur’s car.

“I have something of yours that I need to give back,” she said. “I found it in my bedroom. I think it must have fallen on the floor of your car when the chain broke and somehow got snagged on my coat.”

Arthur was very still. He didn’t take it from her outstretched hand so after a moment she put it on the table. “It had the initials JG in it,” Lizzie said. “I guessed it had belonged to Jenna, your Jenna.”

“I didn’t realise I’d lost it,” Arthur said. He cleared his throat. “I kept it in the car like a little talisman. It was just a stupid, small thing, a present I gave Jenna when we got engaged. The phoenix is supposed to signify endurance and eternal life. I was into all that spiritual stuff at the time and I thought it was a nice way to show I’d love her forever without sounding too sentimental about it.”

He looked at Lizzie. “You read it, didn’t you?” he said. “You read its history.”

“I didn’t do it deliberately,” Lizzie said. “I wish I hadn’t but you know how this works—I have no warning. Sometimes I see things and sometimes I don’t. It’s fickle, this gift. It’s one of the reasons I don’t like it. I didn’t want to read the talisman.” She stopped. “It felt private,” she said. “I didn’t want to know.”

Arthur was silent. She couldn’t tell what he was thinking. When it came to reading Arthur, it only worked when he wanted her to do it. She thought it was only fair that he should be able to deny her that insight but his reserve, his impenetrability, made this doubly difficult. She couldn’t leave it unsaid, though. She was committed now. This was the last secret between them and it had to be laid to rest, no matter what happened afterwards.