‘That was you?’ Alice recalls the car in the lay-by in Sparrow Lane, headlights on full beam. ‘You were the one freaking me out that night?’

Faith nods. ‘I didn’t mean to scare you. I’d planned to tell you what I’d overheard. Then I saw Leon’s car, so I left.’

‘What did you hear?’

‘Tegan telling Leon that the hit and run was an accident, that she hadn’t meant to knock him down,’ Faith says, oblivious to the turmoil inside Alice’s head. Tegan knocked her father down. Leon knew and he never told her.

‘Tegan was crying her little eyes out, saying she couldn’t live with herself, and Leon was doing his best to console her. Not that she deserved his sympathy and understanding. He’s such a sausage though isn’t he? Leon. Shame about him really.’

Alice looks towards the door. ‘What have you done to him, Faith? Where the hell is he?’

Faith shakes her head. ‘I’d hoped he wouldn’t come with you to Flynn Hotel. Though now I think about it, he probably would have come searching for you if you didn’t return to your precious Whitby. He clearly loved you – so it’s all worked out for the best.’

Loved. Past tense. The thought that Leon was hurt or worse swirls around her head. The idea of losing him is unbearable. This is her fault. If she hadn’t begged him to come, he would be OK. She lets out a sob.

‘Oh, please don’t cry,’ Faith says. ‘We’ll be happy here together, you’ll see.’

‘Somebody will look for me.’

‘Will they? I mean you haven’t got anyone but me, have you?’

It’s true. How had she let that happen? How had she become an island? Alice looks again at the closed door, tears streaming down her cheeks, cold against her skin. She goes to rise, but Faith leans forward with a jolt, pushes her down.

‘Don’t you want to hear about Tegan? It’s too late for Leon.’

Bile rises once more in Alice’s throat. She coughs, choking. But she doesn’t move.

‘That night, Tegan was spouting to Leon about how she’d chased after your father. Apparently he’d ended things with her and left. She got in her car, wanted to catch him up, beg him not to leave her. She pulled into Sparrow Lane. It was dark, she’d been drinking … she struck him … didn’t even get out of the car.’

Alice covers her mouth with her hands, holding in a sob.

‘That’s at the very least manslaughter, don’t you agree?’

Alice nods, feebly, imagining her father crushed against the tree.

‘And that’s why I killed her.’

‘You killed her?’ Alice pushes down a pang of what? Gratitude?