‘Okay.’ I reach out to touch her, to reassure her, but my hand falls back to my side before it makes contact with her arm. ‘I’m not accusing you of anything. I was just wondering if Jake or Billy or –’ my throat is so dry it hurts to swallow – ‘Mark said anything to you about them?’

Again she moves to step around me and reaches for the album.

‘Please don’t.’

She snatches back her hand. ‘Why?’

‘I’d rather you didn’t.’

She inches forward, her eyes trained on the photo album, her slender body rigid apart from the fingers of her right hand which twitch against the thin denim of her skirt.

‘What’s in it?’

‘Just family photos. The boys at school, family holidays, that sort of thing.’ I move so I am standing between her and the album, the stool pressing against the backs of my thighs. As Liz pointed out earlier, if it is evidence then we’ve already contaminated it by touching it. The police will want to take fingerprints. That’s if I do give it to the police.

‘You said they’d been defaced,’ she says. ‘How?’

‘I’ve said too much, Kira. I’m sorry. I don’t know what any of this means. I only found the album this morning. I’m still trying to decide what to do.’

Her eyes meet mine. ‘Are you going to take it to the police?’

‘I don’t know.’

Her gaze flicks towards the kitchen window again. The only car in the street is Liz’s. ‘Does Mark know about it?’

‘Not yet. That’s why it would be easier if we had the house to ourselves. Here –’ I reach round for my handbag and pull out my purse – ‘twenty pounds. Take it. It’s the least I can do for kicking you out.’

Kira shakes her head. ‘I don’t want it, Claire. Honestly, it’s fine.’

She returns to where she left her camera equipment, picks it up and heads for the hallway. She pauses at the entrance and glances back at me, then at the photo album, then her footsteps thump-thump-thump up the stairs as she heads for her room.

‘So what do you think?’ Mum asks and I have no idea what she’s talking about. It’s been half an hour since Kira left the house with a small rucksack over her shoulder and a resigned look on her face but I’m still standing at the kitchen window. I texted Jake after she left and explained that I’d had another blackout but that I was okay. No point telling him what I found in the garage or on my phone until I know what I’m dealing with. I didn’t text Mark. I need to talk to him face to face about what happened. Seconds after I messaged Jake the phone rang.

‘Sorry, Mum. I was miles away. What do I think about what?’