Cora taps her phone, checks the display. ‘It’s my mother’s nursing home.’ She swipes the screen, puts it to her ear and stands up, surprisingly lithe considering her injuries. We listen to her side of the call. It’s obvious things aren’t good.

‘Something up?’ Tim grunts, when she finishes.

‘Mum’s worse. The manager thinks it’s pneumonia, but whatever it is, they don’t think she’ll last. I’ll have to go tonight.’

‘I’m so sorry,’ I say.

She doesn’t reply.

Once Cora has left, the house feels different; not better or worse, but weirdly expectant, as if it’s holding its breath, as if it knows something will happen. I’m on my own with Tim and despite his easy charm, I’m on high alert. I like him; I’ve always felt that he’s on my side, but now I’m not so sure. Nick made excuses for his father, but the very fact that he did told its own story. Tim is a coward; the kind of man who says one thing to one person, the opposite to another, because he’s scared of not being liked. What would he do to prevent anyone finding out how morally bankrupt he really is?

I wonder if, in actual fact, he hates me, wants me out of his life as much as his wife does; and the sooner the better. I’ve rocked the boat.

‘We’re not going anywhere, are we, darling?’ I whisper to Toffee, who pricks his ears, looks up at me from under his old man’s eyebrows, then sighs and sinks back into his dreams.

PART 3

ANNA

March 2017 One Year Earlier

IN A MOMENT OF WEAKNESS, ANNA CONTACTED ANGUS Moody and met him for lunch. She chose Angus because once upon a time the Moodys might as well have been family. She and her siblings had treated him and Lorna like uncle and aunt, Pansy and Freya like cousins. She had thought about calling Lorna, but she had been her mother’s great friend and ally. She would be judgemental in a way that Angus wouldn’t.

Time had been kind to her parents’ old friend: his hair was silver grey, his figure trim, his posture still upright; a testament to his early years in the army. He took her to an expensive restaurant and in the spotlight of his gaze, the words spilled out. They talked for over an hour, mainly about her, but also about Izzy and the effect her death had on them all. If asked, she wouldn’t have been able to say what she had been eating or which wine he had ordered. It was so all-absorbing, so intense. She told him about Ben’s suicide, and about Kai. And later, when her pudding had been set down in front of her, he said, quite casually, ‘Of course, Nick’s working for me these days.’