No wonder he’s been angry for months, drinking too much and taking it out on her. He’d been terrified of discovery. It’s unsurprising he disliked being questioned by the police; he must have been scared they’d find out. He’d have thought himself safe, at least until the money ran out. Izzy’s money, given by her parents. Rage begins to build.

“Tell me about his violence towards you.”

This swift change is clever; he wants to use her anger. She knows this, even as her reservations are swept away, even as her face heats with fury.

“He’s always been rough in bed, at least that’s what he called it. I was only fifteen. I thought what he did was normal.”

That’s not quite true, she’d thought she deserved it. She’s thought that for years, but not anymore. It’s different now. She glances around the kitchen as if to remind herself she doesn’t live here; she doesn’t live with Paul. She’s broken away, broken free.

“We married when I was twenty-one. The violence increased; it’s been worse in the last year, much worse in the last few months.” He’d seemed so stressed—little wonder, money must have been running out fast.

“You never thought of leaving him before now?”

“Often, but I put up with everything because of Izzy, our daughter. Everything. I was scared I’d lose her if it came to a custody battle. He had the money to ensure victory, or so I thought.”

“What is his relationship like with Izzy?”

“He worships her, he always has.” She is aware that her voice has softened, which must be confusing, but she can’t help that. Paul’s love for Izzy is his one redeeming feature. “He has terrible faults, but he loves her dearly.”

“Can you think of any reason at all why he might have taken Sorrel Kershaw?”

“None at all, I honestly can’t see him ever harming a child.”

“I suppose that depends on your definition of a child. You were technically a child when he first had sex with you, your maid’s technically a child.”

Beneath his eye there is a little muscle that jumps; she can see it jumping as though he is hiding tension, as though while he is looking at her calmly he is also waiting for her to tell him something else. Then he leans back and his voice changes, becoming matter-of-fact once more.

“There is something we are missing; some little detail I haven’t thought to ask. Let’s start all over again.”

Grace

There are no pictures on the wall, no ornaments or rugs, not even a book; Melissa’s bedroom is bleak, as if it belongs to someone who is frightened to show who she is. Grace stares at the single photograph on the dressing table, trying to reconcile the young bride smiling hesitantly from the silver frame with the damaged woman in the kitchen below.

Eve is sitting on the hard little satin sofa by the window, catching her breath after the stairs; a month of lying in bed has weakened her. Grace sits down beside her while they watch three policemen in the courtyard below inspect the smashed windows and dented panels of Melissa’s car. They walk to the garage, moving slowly, their leashed dogs beside them. The men are chatting a little, their shoulders hunched as if in disappointment. They’ve already looked around the house and garden, there’s not much left to search.