‘I don’t know, darling. I’m just so sorry that she did.’

Neither of us was able to sleep. The house groaned and whined with its usual restlessness, like someone tossing and turning to get comfortable. I listened rigidly for any sounds in the kitchen, though given that the Sad Lady hovered I doubted she’d make much noise.

My eyes fell on the red leather diary on the floor, peeking out from under the bed. Gaia had to have seen something. She had to have witnessed those atrocious scenes.

But how did I go about asking her if her father was beating up her mother without actually saying the words?

‘Were Daddy and Mummy happy?’ I said, as lightly as I could.

‘What do you mean “happy”? Happy like rainbows?’

‘I mean … did Daddy ever hurt Mummy?’ I held my breath as she took this in. Had I gone too far? No, I thought. This was important. The diary proved that there was violence in the home. Gaia would have seen something.

She looked confused. ‘Hurt Mumma? What do you mean?’

I opened my mouth to elaborate, but the look on her face made the words shrivel and die in my throat. She was so little, so innocent. And perhaps she had seen violent scenes, but had repressed them. I knew people did that. I had done it. And then one day they all came back like quicksand.

It would be a long while before I could fall to sleep. My mind churned with thoughts of the woman I’d seen. Of Tom, so crestfallen at Aurelia’s funeral. Of the diary.

I came back to the fact that the diary didn’t end up in my room by itself. Someone had put it there.

Someone wanted me to know that Tom was beating Aurelia.

   24   

THE DRILL

Now

The real work begins today – the drill has arrived.