I remember them, so hostile and angry, as though I was responsible for all the wrong in your life. I know I hurt you, but I had no choice. You’ll understand soon. You’ll understand. Beyond the anger I saw that day, there was beauty and the promise of the kindness that might one day be mine. I wanted you to see it in me, but your zeal for what you perceived to be the truth had blinded you.

‘Did you find what you were looking for?’ I asked as we walked side by side.

You were so suspicious. Rightly so, perhaps. I can only imagine how your opinion of me had altered since we first met.

‘You seem remarkably calm about all this,’ you said.

‘Because I’ve got nothing to hide, Harri.’

‘Don’t call me that.’

You were quite angry I’d used your name. Then you asked me an interesting question.

‘What’s the greater good?’ you said. ‘What do you have planned for the boy?’

I have a feeling you thought you’d trapped me.

‘I heard the recording. The one you play to Elliot,’ you added.

You wouldn’t let it drop. You kept at it.

‘What’s the greater good?’ you insisted. And when I didn’t answer, ‘OK. What sacrifice is Elliot going to make?’

I’ve had a lot of time to think about that day, to ask myself whether I should have told you everything then, held you close and kissed you. I still think about the time we spent together when we might have been lovers. I felt the promise of the world on your lips.

What would you have done if I’d taken you in my arms that day? I know you loved me when we first met. I could feel desire radiating from you. But by then, by the time you broke into my home, I wasn’t so sure. Had the love gone? I saw fear and suspicion in your eyes.

I couldn’t summon the courage. Remember that, Elliot. Remember how cowardly I was.

‘Do you think there’s one person out there for each of us?’ I asked you.

Do you recall that question, Harri?

‘Or do you think we can be happy with anyone who’s a rough fit?’ I went on. ‘Are we fated to be unhappy unless we find perfection?’

‘What’s the point of us talking if you’re not going to answer my questions?’ was the reply you snapped back. You were testy. ‘What are you going to forgive me for?’ you asked. ‘Whatever happens, I forgive you. That’s what you said. Well, what do you think you’ll have to forgive me for?’

You know now, of course.

Do you remember what I said?

I told you, ‘We all have to do things we’re not proud of. Things that will hurt others.’

‘What are you not proud of?’ you asked me.

‘Is this where I confess and you crack the case?’ I replied. I might have done if you’d pressed me, but you didn’t, so I carried on with the veneer that has defined so much of my life. ‘I’ve done nothing wrong. Things aren’t always what they seem. You of all people should know that. Involuntary manslaughter, wasn’t it?’