I turned to look at Anya. Every single atom of my being was resisting what I was hearing. It couldn’t be true, it couldn’t. It was too horrible. My wife, who I had always believed to be so much better a human being than I could ever be, a double murderer? It couldn’t be true, it couldn’t be true, it couldn’t be …

And yet …

I knew it, deep in the marrow of my bones.

I knew, finally, that she was capable of this.

When you have lived so long in the dark, the light is a searing, painful thing. I wished I didn’t know.

Now is the moment that I have gone over, again and again, in the broken, splintered time since.

She could read what I was thinking. Her expression collapsed, a tremor of grief passing over her face, then she somehow smoothed it back into an impassive mask.

Liam stood up and cleared his throat.

‘Okay,’ he said, sounding flat and weary now. ‘I just wanted to come here and look you in the eye. I wanted to say I am sorry that I didn’t do the right thing or try and help you to do it. I can only say that when you end up in a prison cell – where you belong – you’ll have plenty of time to think about what you have done to two families.’

He stopped and looked at me, his eyes full of pain and regret. ‘No, wait,’ he said. ‘Make that three. Because there’s your own, too.’

All I could do was stare, wordlessly, as he moved to the door.

Then Anya cried, ‘Wait, Liam!’ and came towards him quickly. I thought for a moment she was embracing him, which seemed weird and wrong. But then he made a horrible gasping sound and looked down at himself, his eyes wide.

Anya stood back, panting audibly, and it was only as Liam said, ‘Fuck!’ and crumpled in half, that I could see the bread knife, slick with blood, she was still holding in her hand.

‘Shit! Anya!’ I yelled. ‘What the hell have you done?’

Liam was now lying on his side on the tiles, gasping and holding onto his abdomen, his T-shirt dark with the spreading stain. Anya just stared down at him. I grabbed a tea towel and got down on my knees to press it against his stomach.

‘Call an ambulance!’ I shouted. Then, to Liam, ‘Keep that pressed as hard as you can. You’ll be alright, mate, you’ll be alright.’ I had no idea if this was true.

Anya barked, ‘Elliott!’ at me and I looked up to see her standing over me.

She was holding the knife, handle first, her expression unreadable again.

‘I need you now,’ she said.

‘I know!’ I said. ‘We’ll work this out, but ring 999 now!’