‘I’m pretty sure Nick won’t see it that way. Your disappearance almost killed him. His whole life has been blighted. He went into the police force because of you. He’s spent years trying to find out what happened to you. Our lives, my little family, was ruined because of who Nick became because of actions you took.’

‘And that devastates me.’

‘And you’ve come back now – and made it all even worse than before. Congratulations.’ Tears pool on my lower lids. I blink rapidly; I don’t want him to see my pain.

‘I came back to take you away from it all. To ensure you and the boys were as far away from the fallout as possible. I didn’t want you tied up in events that happened way before you even came onto the scene. I didn’t want the consequences of others’ decisions affecting you, Finley and Leo. I had to get you out of this house before the skeletons were unearthed.’

‘Skeletons plural?’

‘No. Sorry, figure of speech. Skeletons in the closet, kind of thing.’

‘So, there is definitely only one body in the garden?’

‘Yes, only the one as far as I know.’

‘Reassuring,’ I mutter. ‘I’m assuming you put him there, though? You know exactly where in the garden he’s buried?’

‘Er … no, actually, I don’t.’

‘You mean you didn’t bury him?’

‘As I say, let me tell you everything from the beginning.’

Chapter One Hundred and One

Amber

I’m drained now, having listened to Tim’s explanation. My brain is struggling to absorb everything he’s told me; to make sense of it. He was right – there was more to it.

Tim is sprawled on one end of the sofa, me the other.

We’re waiting for the others.

‘You called him twenty minutes ago. Where are they? How long—’

A car engine rumbles. I get up and cross the lounge to the window. It’s Nick and Barb. I glance up towards Davina’s house. After today is over, I’ll go and speak to her. Check she’s all right. Tell her I won’t be taking any action against her or Wayne. Let’s face it, my own family appears to have done far worse than hers. I can’t take action against them, Carl or the developers, without taking everyone else down too.

No one has a contact number for Patrick. No doubt he’ll turn up soon – he’s certainly not finished yet if last night’s performance is anything to go by.

The four of us sit silently in the lounge. We’ve exhausted ourselves after over two hours of discussion. Each of us is now reflecting on what’s been said.

About the past. The future.

We’ve come to an agreement: a plan of how to proceed.

And now we wait.