I want to laugh and accuse her of lying but I can’t. I know that voice. It’s her. ‘Oh, hello Isobel, AKA Faith Kendell. Or would you prefer me to use your street name, Billy Dead Mates? Not a milkman or a postman but a murderer, right?’ Would I be talking to her like this if there were anything to be afraid of?

She can’t be anywhere near my house. Definitely not standing right outside, or else she’d knock on the door instead of phoning.

Did I remember to double lock the front door before going to bed last night? Probably not.

‘Liam gave me your number – I hope you don’t mind.’

Now I laugh. ‘That’s right: because of everything you’ve done, the thing I’m likely to object to most is you getting hold of my phone number without my consent. Injecting battery acid into my grandmother’s nothing compared to that.’

‘Liam told me there was no love lost between you and Marion.’

I freeze.

She’s Billy. No one else would have reacted like that.

It’s a few seconds before I manage to say, ‘That’s correct. It’s also true that she had cancer that was about to kill her. I still wish she hadn’t been murdered, though. Ironic, huh?’

‘No. It’s understandable. I’m sorry I lied to you about my name.’

‘Why have you rung me? I don’t want to speak to you – I’d rather be ringing the police and telling them this happened – so unless you have something urgent you want to say—’

‘I’m going to be speaking to the police tomorrow morning. I’d like you to be there, and your brother. This concerns you as much as it does me. I asked the police to make sure you and your brother were present, and they flatly refused. So … although it’s an unorthodox request, and although I’m well aware that no member of your family owes me anything … I’m begging you to agree to come.’

‘Jesus fucking Christ!’ I swear at my phone. ‘What the fuck is this shit?’

‘Again, I apologise sincerely, but … believe me, Kim, you’ll want to be there. You shouldn’t let the police leave you out of this.’

Damn right. Fuckers. Or is that what Isobel wants me to think? Am I falling into a murderer’s trap?

Are you a murderer, Isobel? Are you Billy Dead Mates? I’m not afraid to ask. It’s more that to do so would make me feel disgusting.

‘If they refused to tell me about it, they won’t let me in even if I do turn up, will they?’

‘I hope they will. If you make the effort to come, and bring your brother, I’ll do my bit to ensure it all runs smoothly.’

‘Does “your bit” involve shooting me in the head?’