“Didn’t he ever share any information with you?”

“No. And why would he want to scare you?”

“I think he was more in love with Nina than he admitted to and he felt betrayed by her. I think he is getting back at me because he can’t and couldn’t with her. Or he felt that he was looking out for her by frightening me away.”

Camilla shakes her head but doesn’t tell me that I’m wrong.

“It’s creepy to think that I slept beside that man and didn’t suspect a thing.”

“It is.”

But not as creepy as Camilla admitting that she has no choice but to carry out the plan. There’s no way she’d be this desperate if she’d made it all up as she now claims.

We agree to meet the following afternoon.

“We can surprise him at his mate’s fishing lodge with our findings. He goes nearly every Thursday,” says Camilla. “We can talk to him without interruptions or being overseen.”

“Well, it’s either that, or we set the place on fire with him in it.”

“Sometimes, Marie, I can’t tell whether you’re serious or not.”

Mess with my family, mess with me.

It’s another day for visitors, as no sooner does Camilla leave than the doorbell rings. I spy through the camera (the one I insisted in installing myself) and spot Tamsin clutching an actual mini olive tree in a cream plant pot.

“Congratulations,” she says as we politely sip Assam tea. (Another gift, from whom, I can’t remember.) It crosses my mind that I’ve never drunk as much tea in my life as I have since I’ve had a baby.

“Jack’s gorgeous,” she continues.

Everyone tells me that my baby is gorgeous before they can move on to what they really want to talk about. It’s the rules. I’m not complaining. Jack is gorgeous. I realize that my mind has drifted. Tamsin is speaking.

“I’m sorry that I haven’t got round to visiting until now. Please let’s start again. I’m sorry I lashed out. It was just brutally unfair that Nina died so young. My sister had a health scare around the same time and it frightened me. I took some of it out on you. We miss you at the book group.”

“Thank you,” I say. “How’s the online dating going?”

She pulls a face. “You wouldn’t believe some of the creeps on there! Do you know, one of them asked me to pay him back for the meal he insisted on paying for because I wouldn’t go back to his place! The cheek!”

I pull a sympathetic face.

“I have something awkward to ask you,” I say. “It’s very awkward, which is hard because we’ve only just made up and you know...” I nod at the olive tree standing on the kitchen counter.

She looks nervous.

“The nasty cards you’ve been sending...”

She frowns and tilts her head. “Cards?”

“Yes, and the creepy flowers?”

She looks over at the olive plant as if she’s made an error and brought flowers instead without realizing. The thing about lies is that if you’re not a bloody good actor, it’s deceivingly hard to act surprised. She doesn’t ask for any details, which is another giveaway. Perhaps I should give her lessons in how to lie.