‘I’ll come out in a minute, darling.’

A pause.

‘Are you coming, Mummy?’

‘Yes, I’ll be right there.’

‘I want a Mummy story.’

‘What about a Daddy story?’

‘Daddy said it was Mummy’s turn.’

‘Oh, he did, did he?’

‘Yes.’ Another short pause. ‘So can I have Princess and the Pea?’

‘Of course, darling.’

Rowan locked her phone, flushed the pristine toilet – just for effect – and ran both taps noisily into the Italian marble sink for good measure.

She unlocked the door of the en suite and reached for the handle.

Chapter 35

35

I don’t know how long I stayed there at the edge of the gorge. Long enough to watch as the sun sank slowly towards the horizon, turning from blinding white to blistering gold and then a deep, burning orange as the dark hills rose up to meet it.

Did it stack up, Sean’s denial?

I don’t know what you’re talking about.

I swear I’m not involved with Rowan.

It’s the truth.

How could I still believe in him? Because I may not have seen the fire, but I could certainly smell the smoke. I could almost taste it, harsh in my throat. His refusal to explain, his silence, was deafening and incriminating, all at the same time.

Eventually I looked at my watch. It was getting late and the kids would be wanting their tea soon. I stood up and began the walk back up the hill.

By the time I reached the villa, the kitchen was a hive of activity, Alistair in an apron making a big bowl of paella while Russ poured drinks and Izzy set the dining table. Rowan put a glass of white wine in my hand, informing me it was one of the local varieties and was chilled to absolute perfection. I studied her as I took a sip, the chilled Faugères like ice on my tongue, trying to discern any sign of deceit in her eyes, any sign of treachery. But there was nothing. I reminded myself that she worked in PR, that presenting a story – an image – to the world, was what she did every day, and that she was very good at her job.

‘You all right, honey?’ she said. ‘You look as if you could use a bigger glass.’

I pushed down the anger, forcing a smile to the surface.

‘Just a bit hot. You’re right about this wine, though, it’s exactly what—’

Daniel ran up the steps to the balcony, squealing past me, with Lucy in hot pursuit.

‘Mum! Dad! Help, she’s gone mad!’

Lucy stalked after him, her face flushed with anger.

‘Give it to me!’ she shouted. ‘Now!’

I stepped in between them, holding my hands up like a referee stopping a boxing match.

‘Whoa!’ I said. ‘What’s going on?’