‘Well, I am! You’re so superficial that all you wanted was the area clean and pretty. Spending money on fucking new street signs, roundabouts with flowers on them, street cleaners by the dozen, updating a poxy shopping centre . . . the list is endless. There you are in your Givenchy suit, cutting a poxy ribbon with a false, sickly grin on your face, fussing over the fucking voters. I’ve watched the oohs and aahs, as you make your pathetic speeches, preaching to the uneducated, when, really, Mother, you ignored the violence and the drugs and took your eye off the ball. So, it’s not surprising, is it, that the crime rate is increasing? You should have been a cheap, talentless celebrity, making your money from a stint on Big Brother instead of being in part responsible for people’s lives!’

The room fell silent as both Alastair and Rebecca stared at their child, who, from nowhere, had suddenly found her voice, and, it seemed, was wasting no time in using it, much to the shock of her parents.

‘Huh. Don’t look so surprised. The truth hurts, Mother. How the hell you got into politics is beyond me. The only bench you should be sitting on is the fucking garden bench. Have you even listened to Brooke? Because if I were you, I would start now. If you don’t, mark my words: I will make sure that sister of mine is educated about your ways. Her attack has been brushed under the carpet. You want to keep it all hush-hush because it will look bad on you. We aren’t babies, Mother. We have minds of our own, and she needs counselling. And I know why she hasn’t had it because God forbid if that bit of news ever went viral.’ Her voice suddenly became sarcastic. ‘The local MP’s daughter raped by three druggies!’

Without warning, Rebecca stepped forward and slapped Poppy hard across the face.

Like Kendall would have done, Poppy didn’t move but stared daringly back at her mother. ‘That, Mother, just about sums you up. The truth is shocking, and you just can’t bear to hear it. Well, slapping me won’t stop it coming out sooner or later.’

Suddenly, the atmosphere became toxic, the three entities in the room each paralysed by their own thoughts.

To make matters worse, had they but known it, their nightmares were only just beginning.

Hell called with a loud knock at the front door. The sound was just enough for them all to stare at each other for a moment. Rebecca shot a questioning glance at Alastair, who, in turn, shrugged his shoulders.