‘As I was saying,’ Tim says, ignoring my obvious distress and turning away from me, ‘there are similarities with the cold case you were working on, Nick; links to Chloe Jenkins’ abduction and probable murder and my supposed disappearance.’ Tim pauses and walks to the other side of the kitchen, turning so his back is against the far wall. He’s looking at all of us now. ‘Just not in the way you’d come to think. You needed a helping hand. A nudge in the right direction. As did you, Amber. I thought it’d be less of a shock if you pieced it together yourself, rather than be showered with the evidence all in one go. And yes, I wanted you to figure out I was here, too, Mum. Wanted you to know I knew everything was about to blow up, out of our control. After all, it’s not only about the part he played.’

‘The part who played?’ Patrick asks.

‘Dear old Bern. Your brother. Our dad. My mother’s husband.’ He gives a short, vicious laugh. ‘The murdering bastard.’

The room seems to darken – the words Tim has spoken lie heavy on each person’s shoulders. I don’t believe what I’m hearing. Nick clearly feels that same.

‘What? Shut up, Tim. You can’t come back here thirty-bloody-three years later like some whirlwind, tossing everything in the air, landing these bizarre stories on us,’ Nick says, propelling himself towards Tim.

‘Not stories, I’m afraid.’ Tim puts his hands up in front of him, pressing them into Nick’s chest to stop him from getting any closer. ‘And you knew that, didn’t you, Uncle Patrick? You’d always suspected your brother was up to no good, hadn’t you? But rather than stick around, help him, help his family – you abandoned us all, and that’s why you’re back here now, looking for absolution. You’re going to die soon, and you wanted to unburden your guilt first. And you were going to do that by telling Nick his father was a murderer and his mother helped him to cover it all up to save her own skin.’

‘No – to save my boys from the horror, the humiliation of finding out what their father was,’ Barb says quietly. She looks beat. All her energy zapped, as though she’s given up the fight.

‘You abandoned your family too, though, Tim, didn’t you?’ Patrick retorts. ‘And as for you, Barbara – you protected a killer.’ He leans on the table in front of Barb, his eyes narrowed. Barb stares him down, saying nothing. The air is charged, and I feel gripped with fear at how this is all going to end. I’m not ready to believe Nick’s father was a murderer – it’s an absurd suggestion. Someone is lying, surely? But then I remember Richard is Tim and maybe nothing is out of the realms of possibility with this family.