Marnie’s breath was coming quickly now. She needed to speak. She wished she’d brought the photograph. She tried to shape the words of a question to which she was certain she already knew the answer: ‘You’re saying Alice was my mother’s daughter?’

They came out oddly, wrongly, gobbledegook; like a record played backwards. Camille couldn’t untangle them.

Marnie tried again, more slowly but again the words didn’t work.

‘Sign it,’ said Camille. ‘Talk to me with your hands.’

Was Alice my mother’s daughter?

‘Yes, that’s right.’

Zoe was staring out of the window. ‘He’s patting his pockets, looking for his house keys.’

‘Denise was fourteen,’ said Camille. ‘She’d fallen in love with a boy who came into her father’s bookshop.’

A hammering on the door downstairs.

‘He can’t get in,’ said Zoe.

‘When she fell pregnant, the boy’s family took him out of the school, whisked him away, found him a job and a suitable wife.’

Male voices downstairs. Marnie could hear her father’s voice clearly now, calling: ‘All right, all right! I’m coming!’

Camille leaned forward, closer to Marnie. ‘He was obsessed with Denise,’ she said. ‘He never stopped wanting her.’

From a distance, Mr deVillars’ voice exclaimed: ‘John! What are you doing here?’

‘They stayed in touch, you know, him and Denise, right up until she married, and then she told him she wanted a new start. She didn’t want her past to interfere with her present. But he couldn’t let her go. He wouldn’t. He found out where they lived, even when they moved to the back of beyond. He found her and he would go there to pester her when John was out, always turning up trying to make her love him again, spying on her…’

There was a mechanical clunk; the sound of an engine turning.

‘The lift!’ Zoe hissed.

‘Then when John found him lurking about on the farm track outside their home one night, he made up some story about the car breaking down and made friends with John and tricked him into bringing Denise here. Her and you and—’

‘He’s coming up,’ Zoe said.

Mrs deVillars leaned forward towards Marnie, her eyes wide. ‘In the letter, Denise told me that he was threatening to tell John about her past if she didn’t take up with him again.’

A whirr as the lift rose.

‘Either she did as he said or he would destroy her marriage.’

Sounds from the hallway outside; the lift mechanism unlocking.

Who, Mrs deVillars? Marnie signed. Who? Say his name!

Zoe, frantic, hovered by the door. Footsteps were approaching. Mrs deVillars looked over her shoulder.

Tell me, please!

The door swung open.

‘Here I am!’ said Mr deVillars. He stopped when he saw Marnie, caught his breath: ‘Oh.’