Bell swivelled her eyes from Hanna to Emil. He was looking shaken by her words. It was clear he hadn’t remembered; that yet again, he only had half the memories, half the facts . . .

‘What kind of a man does that? What kind of father?’

Yes, what kind did? Bell wondered, feeling herself recoil. Wasn’t this an echo of her own accusations that he was failing? He was a bad father now – but he’d also been a bad father then? She swallowed, seeing him with fresh eyes. So much had been clouded by his accident – his vulnerability, the unfairness of it all, the attraction that existed between them like iron filings to magnetic north. But he was a bad father and now, it seemed, a bad husband too.

Hanna grew stronger. ‘I was sobbing on the floor, begging you not to do it. I told you I didn’t want your money. I didn’t want anything from you. It wasn’t like you even wanted me any more. You just didn’t want me to be with Max! You couldn’t bear that he and I loved each other, and you knew that in taking Linus, you were hurting me in the worst possible way. And there wasn’t any doubt you would do it. You left that house with the absolute certainty that your family, with all their money and all their connections, would be able to rob me of my child! Just like you’ve tried to do again! You’ve always used money to try to control me, just like I’ve always used sex to control you.’

It was Emil’s turn to pale now as her mouth twisted suddenly into a sneer, fear transformed into white-hot rage. ‘But it meant nothing. Don’t delude yourself it was anything more than manipulation, because you’re absolutely right – I was frightened you were going to remember the fight that day and my affair with Max, but only because it would fire you up again into taking Linus away. So I kept you close and I gave you what you wanted only because I was buying time, figuring out how to make you see we could never go back – because I won’t lose my child. I won’t. Not for either one of you.’ She looked back at Max evenly, laying down her terms to him too. He had to accept what she’d done for her son . . . This was not an apology.

Max was quiet, emotions running over his face like colours – anger and resentment marbled with a grudging look of possible understanding. ‘What happened in the car?’ he asked eventually. ‘I need to know everything.’

Hanna looked back at Emil, tucking her hair behind her ears as the wind toyed with her like sprites. Her voice was calm again, all the fury that had bleached it white now spent, colour coming back as the tear tracks dried on her cheeks. ‘I never touched you. I got in the car and chased after you because I was going to make you talk and listen, that was all.’ She flinched, remembering fully, falling back into that moment. ‘I drew up alongside you at the lights and you looked over at me and saw me through the window, calling to you to pull over, begging you. I was desperate just to talk. But instead, you jumped the light and turned the corner. You hit a pothole, just as the tram was coming . . .’A single sob escaped her, the horror still too vivid to suppress. ‘It looked like a puddle, and threw you straight into the path . . . You couldn’t have known, no one could.’