“Sit down, won’t you? Try to relax, have a drink.” Grace points to the glasses on the table between them.

Izzy sits in the armchair, her back to the door, and stares at Grace. She doesn’t touch the lemonade.

“You’re good, Izzy, very smart,” Grace says, nodding. “We all thought it was Paul. The tiara in the car was clever. He didn’t stand a chance.”

“Don’t forget the abuse.” Izzy’s mouth twists in a smile. “It mightn’t have worked without that.”

Grace pauses, the lemonade halfway to her lips; another piece of the puzzle slots in.

“Ah. Paul was already on trial; was that necessary?”

“I had to make absolutely sure. I had to think of something, and it fitted so well.” Izzy laughs, she’s warming up. The policeman was right; she’s forgotten him completely. “You should have seen Dad’s face.”

“Your father loves you. Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”

“He’s a monster.” Izzy’s voice sharpens. “He hurt my mother. He got what he deserved.”

“You hurt her too,” Grace points out, then stops; Izzy’s a child, after all. A damaged child. She may not have realized that her lies in court could make it harder for her mother to get justice for herself.

“Don’t pretend you care about my mother,” Izzy snaps back. “You must have seen how scared she was, but you didn’t bother to think what that meant. You didn’t have a clue about us kids either. None of you did.” Her face has become pink with anger. “We could have been on a desert island for all you cared, as long as we kept out of the way.”

The words hit Grace like little stones—the sharp-edged ones she saw under the bed in the attic. Had they all been that careless, that distracted?

“I gave you a chance,” Izzy continues angrily. “I did things to wake you up.”

“What kind of things?” Grace isn’t sure if Izzy will answer, but Izzy is hitting her stride.

“I got Blake to steal your door keys for me, but you didn’t notice, it made no difference to you at all.”

“You’re wrong there, it made all the difference,” Grace replies. If those keys had been with my other ones on the night of my assault, she continues silently, I would have escaped back into my flat. I wouldn’t have been attacked. I wouldn’t have been terrified for weeks or pushed Martin away. I might have noticed what was happening to Melly or Sorrel.

“I didn’t need keys to get into Eve’s house, though,” Izzy is continuing, contemptuously. “I walked right in and took her ring while they were having sex.” She laughs. “Eve must’ve been so spooked when she saw it had gone.” Then her face changes, a note of irritation creeps into her voice. “I let their dog into the garden by mistake, he messed up their shed. If Eve was brighter she might have suspected something.” Then she frowns. “And you were supposed to discover the ring. I put it in your bed specially; Martin must have got there first, or you wouldn’t’ve been so surprised by the photos.”