‘I don’t know,’ I say. ‘I’m not altogether satisfied Nick is telling us the truth.’ I watch as Nick and Richard huddle together near the end of the garden.

Davina sighs. She doesn’t know exactly what happened the night we all came back here. She wasn’t privy to what we all did the night after – I’ve only told her part of it. Oddly for her, she hasn’t asked any further questions.

‘Best to let sleeping dogs lie?’ she says.

‘Yeah, probably,’ I say as I gulp down the rest of my Pimm’s.

I slip away from Davina and Barb and join the men.

‘Hey,’ I say. ‘What are you two concocting now?’ I say it in as jokey a manner as I can muster.

Both faces turn to me. Both look as guilty as kids who’ve been caught smoking behind the bike sheds.

‘Oh, God, what? It’s not over, is it? You were just telling us that so we wouldn’t panic.’ I can barely breathe; I’m about to have an anxiety attack.

‘Calm down,’ Richard says, enveloping me in his arms. I allow this intimacy. Despite not even being close to where we were prior to the revelations, I’m beginning to come around to the possibility Richard really does love me. I’m unsure we have a future together, but I am more willing to consider it than I was. Nick looks away, though. I don’t think he’s ready to forgive yet. I know he’s working on it – we’ve discussed it all at length over the past difficult months. His avoidance now may be because he can’t bear to see me in an embrace with his brother, or it could be because he’s about to tell me something he knows I won’t like.

‘Don’t tell me to calm down,’ I say, pulling away.

‘It’s fine, Amber,’ Nick says. ‘It’s nothing like that.’

‘Then what is it like? What’s wrong?’

‘Look, if I tell you, you can’t ever tell Mum. I mean, like ever. She can’t know …’

My heart pumps so hard I swear I can see it beating out my chest.

‘Of course. I promise.’

‘Nick says it wasn’t Dad.’ Tears trickle down Richard’s face.

I turn to Nick. ‘What? I don’t understand.’

‘It’s true, Amber. The evidence doesn’t link to Dad the way we thought it did. It’s circumstantial at best. The only thing tying him to it is a bracelet and the recollection of a man who was seventeen at the time he found it.’

‘Yes, and that was enough before,’ I say, glaring at Richard.

‘I know. But we’ve realised too late who it really was.’

And then it dawns on me, too. We’d been blindsided.