I’m sorry. She bit at her lip to stop herself saying the words out loud. The woman didn’t deserve an apology, but the social norms were so deeply ingrained in her that it was habit.

The absurdity of the situation hit her, and now she was biting at her lip to stop herself from laughing.

Don’t get hysterical, she warned herself.

One last push, and Anna’s lower half was dangling overboard.

The broken woman came to life then. With her damaged arm she caught at Paula’s wrist. The pain hissed out from between her teeth. Her body juddered and she slipped further over the edge.

Paula flicked her hand back and forth, trying to shake the woman from her grip. She gritted her teeth and tried to yank her arm free, but Anna held on stubbornly.

No words were spoken; a silent struggle. Paula lay flat on the ground, the cold of the balcony sinking into the front of her body.

Their eyes met, and the stillness of the night was heightened.

Something pushed at the inside of Paula’s mind. The memories of her youth, freed from their self-imposed prison by telling the story of Carl’s death, sprang at her, as bright and vivid as the Northern Lights had been.

‘Oh my God…’ she stuttered. ‘I-I know you.’

Anna’s one good eye, previously sullen, widened in fear.

Paula looked at her properly, amazed that she hadn’t seen it from the start. The woman she’d thought about so much over the years of her childhood, the girl whose life she had coveted. The girl whose life she had stolen with a lie.

Look at her now.

‘Rebecca.’

She said her name, and even though she knew she was right, the expression on Anna’s face verified it.

‘You’re Rebecca,’ she said again, almost shouting now, strangely furious, absurdly let down. ‘I envied you!’

Anna opened her mouth. Her front tooth was chipped, and vaguely Paula wondered when that had happened.

She hauled her up, clenching her jaw with the exertion. Anna flapped across the ground, a fish out of water, her head at an angle, her one good eye staring balefully, accusingly at Paula.

And now I’m the broken one, thought Paula.

Anna shuffled to a sitting position. She cradled her bad arm, inspecting it for outward signs of damage.

‘What happened to you?’ Paula whispered. She remembered the night she’d gone out on the streets to buy heroin for her mother, seeing Rebecca wearing that dress, those heels, looking utterly beautiful, but still oh-so-sad.

Anna lowered her head, her chin to her chest. A childlike gesture, and with that one movement, she told Paula everything she wanted to know.

‘You were still being abused.’ It wasn’t a question, and Paula inhaled sharply at the realisation.