I half expect him to put his hands over his ears.

But I have to tell him anyway, because it just can’t stay hidden any more.

‘Joe hurt me,’ I say, closing my eyes because I can’t bear to see the look on Alex’s face when my words register with him. ‘He abused me,’ I say, my voice as small as it was when I was nine years old and heard that squeak of the floorboard. ‘He did things … And I didn’t know what to do because if I told anyone, he told me … he told me no one would believe me, or I’d have to go into a home and that no one would ever want me because I was too old for a family.’

The words are pouring out. ‘He hurt me and I swear, I didn’t do anything to encourage it. I told him to stop. So many times I told him to stop but he didn’t. He said … he said he couldn’t help it. And it was only because he loved me so much.’

I am bent double, my head in my hands, my chest as tight as if someone was squeezing it just as someone had squeezed Joe’s chest on the night he died.

I can’t speak any more, not for the moment. All I can do is cry, shame clawing at me. I hear Alex cry too. Alex, who never cries. The only time I’ve ever seen him shed a tear was the day Lily was born. The first time he held her in his arms and he vowed to protect her.

Ciara cuts in, ‘Anyone would understand. I understand. He was a monster, Alex. If he hurt Heidi and he hurt me, who else could he have hurt? He deserved to die. No one would blame Heidi for snapping – all that stress she was living under. I’ve told her I’ll tell the police what he did to me, too. And I can prove it.’

Chapter Sixty-Three

Ciara

Then

‘No!’ I told Joe, loudly and firmly.

I didn’t shout. I just made sure I was very clear. I would not help him into bed. I would not coddle and soothe. I would not show him the tenderness he had failed to show me. I stood far enough away from him that he could not take a hold of my wrist again. Not without standing up on the legs he had proclaimed were too wobbly.

‘You can manage it yourself,’ I added.

‘I’m not well, Ciara,’ he said. ‘I was only looking for a bit of help.’

With considerable effort, some of it put on for effect, in my opinion, he shuffled his way back onto the bed and pulled his legs in under the covers. With shaking hands, he lifted the cup of tea I had left him and took a sip.

‘Can I leave now?’ I asked him, all set to walk out.

‘Can we not talk first?’ he asked. ‘Don’t you think we’ve things to talk about? God knows I’m not going to be around for long. Can we not start to try to find a way to make peace with each other?’