‘You want to know the huge irony in all this?’ His eyes drew heavenwards, as if seeking strength. ‘The little diversion I’d set up in Mosgiel, the meticulous planning for today, the down-to-the-minute timing – it was all for her benefit, so I could finally and emphatically let her know exactly how hurt I was by her neglect. She was going to pay, pay for putting everyone and everything ahead of me, and I was going to be free to do as I pleased, the poor widower, rocked by the disappearance and murder of his wife. I was going to get to start afresh without being shackled to her so-called civic-mindedness. I’d finally be seen as Phillip Kershaw, renowned academic and forward thinker, not forever introduced to all and sundry as Jude’s husband, or the twins’ father. And do you know what happened?’

His voice had been pitching higher and higher, as his controlled façade crumbled away. ‘She rang earlier and cancelled our lunch date, killed the whole thing, all that I had put in place. And do you know why?’ He paused as if expecting a response.

I shook my head.

‘I still can’t believe this.’ He laughed, a scoffing, acidic sound. ‘She ditched me to go and “give comfort”,’ he said, in an almost perfect imitation of her voice, ‘to refugees from your fucking circus.’ In his exasperation, he’d moved the knife away from Mum’s throat and was using it like a conductor’s baton, beating out the time of his words.

My eyes followed the blade away from the throat.

My right hand edged around my back.

In a split second my mind did the calculation. Could I? Was there enough time?

Fuck, it was a risk.

A bang, bang, bang on the outside kitchen door shattered the silence.

Phil’s head swung around, reflexively drawn to the source of the noise. It was all the distraction I needed. Before he had a chance to turn back I had the other Glock out, raised my arm, sighted and squeezed away two rounds over the top of Mum’s head into his right shoulder.

The blasts concussed in the closed space, and in the aftermath, my hearing took on a muted, underwater quality and everything moved in slow motion. Phil’s face registered utter surprise as the knife tumbled from his now useless hand. A ruby rose bloomed at his shoulder and he staggered back into the refrigerator before sliding in a big smear of his own blood, down to the ground. I strode around the table, my eyes focused only on that man, that monster. I heard the sound of shattering glass and the scraping of chair legs and Paul’s voice yelling out my name. I reached Phil in four quick steps, and straddled him, gun outstretched.

I placed the muzzle flush against the skin of his forehead.