‘What the hell are you doing here? You left … how did you get back in?’ My words trip over themselves as I stand over Tim who’s lying on the sofa, a blanket covering him.

‘Mum gave me her key.’ He wipes at his puffy eyes. ‘Sorry, I didn’t want to wake you.’

So, Barb did have a key. The sneaky cow. Who hasn’t been inside my house without my permission? I’ll deal with her later. ‘And, I’ll ask again, what the hell are you doing here?’ My voice rises an octave – fear mixes with anger. I don’t know this man, but now I do know what he’s capable of.

‘I wasn’t leaving you in the house alone after everything last night. It isn’t safe.’

I splutter, ‘Er … you’re not safe.’

Tim pulls back the blanket and sits up. ‘I completely understand you’re angry, hurt and feeling let down right now—’

‘For starters, yes,’ I say. ‘And nothing you’re about to tell me will make me feel differently.’

‘It might not, no. Are you willing to hear me out, though?’

I don’t think I have any choice but to hear him out. Not if I want to find any kind of resolution to all of this. ‘Not long ago I thought I was in love with a man named Richard – someone I serendipitously met on Facebook – and who I was about to spend the rest of my life with. In the matter of a few hours, my life flipped and now I don’t know which way is up, what to think, or what to feel. I don’t know what to do. Sleeping on it hasn’t helped a jot.’ Unshed tears thicken my voice.

‘I know this has all come as a terrible shock, and I know I’ve ruined any chance of a future with you and the boys …’

‘A future with us? What are you talking about? You used me. You never wanted me; you just wanted a way back!’

‘No, babe, you’re wrong.’

A building fury begins in the pit of my stomach. ‘Don’t call me babe. And don’t tell me I’m wrong. How can you say this shit after what came out last night? Your father’s body is in my garden. My boyfriend, who it turns out is my brother-in-law, is a cold-blooded killer …’ My anger burns out; I’m deflated. I can’t say any more. I walk away from him, stride into the kitchen and with shaking hands fill the kettle.

I sense he’s behind me. ‘And now what? You’re going to kill me and add me to the compost?’

‘Don’t be ridiculous, Amber. Of course I’m not going to kill you.’

‘Did you tell your dad that, too, before you … what? Stabbed him? Smashed his head in? How did you kill your father, Tim?’