He exhales deeply. ‘There’s so much more to it, Amber.’ He sits at the kitchen table. ‘Please, sit down and let me explain. Once I’m done, you can do whatever you want. Call the police. Sell to the developers. Do whatever you feel is right.’ He seems to be beat; his energy zapped.

Do I believe he won’t hurt me? Even if once he’s told me his sorry story, I do decide to call it in?

‘Shouldn’t we do this when everyone’s here? It would save you telling it all twice.’

I realise I don’t even know when the others will be here; we didn’t agree on a time last night. And I don’t feel safe, here on my own with Tim. He can tell me anything he wants without anyone else to substantiate or oppose his version of events; he could spin another web of lies.

‘We could wait, sure. I’d really like to tell you on my own, first, though. Without the others interrupting.’

I pull a chair out from under the table and sit down opposite him. For the first time since I found out his real identity, I look at him properly. I see the same dark brown eyes I’ve been staring deeply, longingly into for the past year. Maybe I do know this man. Not who he was over thirty years ago, but the man he is now. Without the constraints of a past, he might be the best version of himself when he’s with me.

But he can’t really love me – he sought me out because of who I am. His brother’s wife. The woman who lives in the house his father’s buried in. He was with me for reasons other than love. I mustn’t let him fool me again.

‘I’m going to call Nick,’ I say, as I scroll through my phone. ‘I want to know when they’re coming over.’

‘That’s reasonable,’ Tim says. ‘I am worried, though.’

‘Oh, why?’

‘Nick and my mother have been together all night. I’ve no idea what crap she’s feeding him. What untruths.’

‘And you might well be about to do the same with me,’ I say.

Tim reaches across the table, putting his hands on mine. ‘You know me, Amber. The real me. I’ve never hidden who I am from you.’

‘Are you kidding me? That’s exactly what you’ve done.’ I pull my hands out from under his.

‘I hid Tim Miller. Not Richard Lock.’

‘I don’t know if that makes a difference. You are Tim Miller. You’ve lied your entire life.’

‘Aren’t some lies – those told to protect others – ones that can be forgiven?’

‘Your lies were to protect yourself, Tim.’

‘Mostly they were to protect Nick and Mum.’