I turned to glare at him in time to see a half-hearted smile die on his lips.

‘Seriously? You’re trying to make jokes?’

His smile vanished completely.

‘Sorry, Kate. Sorry.’

I plunged the last of the pots into the sink, water splashing over the side and onto my feet, and resumed scrubbing even more vigorously than before.

‘How’s your phone, by the way?’

He shifted beside me, as if sensing a trap.

‘Absolutely knackered. Won’t even switch on.’

‘That’s a shame, isn’t it? How are you managing without it?’

His eyes flicked up to mine in the dark reflection of the window, then away again.

‘All right.’

‘Still keeping up with your messages?’ My voice was heavy with sarcasm. ‘Keeping on top of things?’

‘It’s no bother,’ he said quietly. ‘I’ll sort it when we get back to England.’

I finished the pots, drained the water and dried my hands.

He took half a step towards me, hands out as if to hug me, but I shook my head.

‘Don’t,’ I said, a note of warning in my voice. ‘Don’t even try.’

‘Kate, I’m—’

‘You’re what?’

He hesitated, seeming to weigh his words. ‘You know I’ve always been a rubbish liar.’

‘You seem to have got a lot better at it recently.’

‘Not really.’

I crossed my arms tightly over my chest. ‘Why don’t you just tell me?’

He seemed about to say something, then thought better of it, his eyes dropping to the floor.

‘There’s nothing to tell.’

‘Liar!’ I spat, louder than I had intended. ‘Why can’t you just tell me? I hate this! Hate it.’

I fled from the kitchen before he could see my tears, before he could say anything else. It was painful just to be near him, to have to talk to him. Instead I went upstairs to our bedroom, sitting on the bed in the air-conditioned cool until my heart had slowed to something near normal, wiping my eyes with a tissue.

This was a special kind of torture. Why wouldn’t he just come out with it, put me out of my misery? Was I going mad? Was I losing it? No. I had evidence. I had seen things, heard things, that could not be denied or explained away, however hard he tried. My head was pounding. I opened my bedside drawer to find some paracetamol, shifting books and chargers and passports to one side, reaching to the back. I always put the tablets out of sight at the back of a drawer in case one of the kids ever—

There, a box of paracetamol. But something was wrong. Out of place. Or, more accurately, absent. I had put it here two days ago, for safekeeping, and now it had disappeared.

The camcorder tape of Sean and Jennifer.

Chapter 56

56