‘I don’t think that’s a good idea,’ Patrick interrupts.

‘Well, I do. You can crawl back into whatever hole you came out of,’ Nick says to Patrick. ‘And you …’ Nick nods towards Tim. ‘You can drive into town, find a hotel or something. You’re not staying here.’

‘Yeah, I’ll do that. But we need to talk further tomorrow. This isn’t over yet,’ Tim says. He looks me straight in the eye. ‘I want to explain—’

‘Tomorrow will do, thanks. I’ve heard enough from you tonight.’ I avert my eyes. I can never look at him in the same way again.

My new chapter has just closed. The book slammed in my face.

Chapter Ninety-Nine

There’s a certain satisfaction in finding out you were right. But it comes at a price.

The truth can set you free – it can also cost you dear.

Barbara Miller has found this out. She lost Tim a long time ago, and now she’ll probably lose Nicholas – I can’t see him getting over her betrayal; Tim’s neither.

Amber was caught in the crossfire, but she had no idea she would be the one to hold the cards in the end.

Along with me.

All or nothing. Shit or bust.

It came down to knowing what to do with the knowledge that was imparted; the truth. Or a version of it, at least.

Unearth it once and for all – or keep it buried.

You never truly know someone until you see how they react under pressure. Bear witness to the decisions they make.

Will they protect themselves or others?

Will they be able to live with their decision …?

What will you do, now, Amber?

Chapter One Hundred

Amber

What day is it?

I’m confused and feeling hungover. I’m in bed. The light streams through the open curtains. I’m surprised I slept – my body and mind must’ve shut down from the exhaustion and shock.

It’s Saturday.

The boys are with Jo and Keeley.

I’m alone in the house.

I hope.

I gingerly get out of bed; I’m fully clothed still. I listen for noises. Only the chirping birds and squawks of seagulls can be heard. Today is going to bring further stress; more upset. I’m not convinced I can handle it, but I don’t suppose I’ll have a choice. I walk into Finley’s empty room and go to his window: it overlooks the back garden. A shiver runs the length of my spine.

Bern Miller is out there.

Christ. What happens now?

I can’t be bothered to change out of yesterday’s clothes, or shower, for now – I’ll do it after I’ve consumed several coffees. When I reach the lounge, my heart misses a beat.