I wash the dry crumbs of the toast down with cold tea. I have to pull myself together for Diana. They are going to question her shortly. I put the cup on the table. ‘Thank you, Mrs Hoskine.’

She nods, and the force of her look leaves me reprimanded. Her stare doesn’t leave me and I begin to wonder if somehow she knows. But the logical part of my mind has been over the evening repeatedly. No one was awake in the house and there had been no lights on in the cottage. I’d been careful. I’d even cleaned my plimsoles when I’d returned. Nothing should give away my part. Nothing. But of course, I am guilty and I have never needed to look less guilty in my life. Last night in bed I rolled over and could still smell his cologne on the pillow. I hugged it to me and let the tears come. Only in the dark hours could I let go, but I didn’t know what I was crying for. It worried me that I was not so much grieving for Allan, as the me that had existed just a few days ago.

Climbing the stairs to Diana’s room, I find her sitting by the window with her finger tracing the raindrops as they race down the glass. Her cheeks are blotchy and wet from tears. My heart contracts as I go to her and place a hand on her shoulder. She turns and looks up. I could drown in the despair in her eyes.

‘My girl.’ I open my arms and she rests her head against my stomach as I hold her tight. She is now the only child I will ever have, which only days ago was just what I’d wanted. But I had wanted us to be a complete family, Allan, Diana and me.

‘Mummy, do I have to talk to the policeman?’

I nod.

‘But how can I?’

I see her holding back words and I know the effort it is taking. ‘Just answer the questions they ask as best as you can.’

‘But Mummy, Daddy said something when he tucked me in.’

I hug her tighter. ‘That he loved you.’

She sniffed. ‘He did say that but . . .’

‘That’s all you need to remember.’

‘But Mummy he said he was dead already.’

I freeze. ‘Forget that. I’m sure he meant something else.’ I stroke her hair. ‘It was just a tragic accident.’

‘Are you sure?’

Meeting her glance, I say, ‘Yes, and remember you promised me.’

She nods. ‘But why?’

‘Because it would confuse things.’

‘I must lie.’ Her eyes are wide and tear-filled.

‘It’s just not saying. It’s just forgetting.’ I watch her beautiful face. Her thoughts are so clear. ‘It’s just not important. Let it go.’

‘But . . .’

I pull her tight against me. ‘Just forget what you saw. It is unimportant.’