“Seriously? That would mean the end of your career.”

“I know.”

“You love being a teacher.”

“I know that too.”

“You’re not acting like you know. You’re acting like you’ve already given up.”

“Maybe I’m not as strong as you think I am. Maybe I never have been.”

“That’s bullshit. We can do this. We can find a way to fight back.”

“No offence, but I don’t feel like we’re doing anything. I’m the one who’s turned into her personal plaything. I’m the one who has to put up with her…” Scott had sat up, his words booming through the pub. The family had stopped laughing; they were staring at him. He slumped back in his chair. “Sorry. I don’t know where that came from.”

“You don’t have to apologise.”

They sat quietly for a time, making progress on their drinks. Scott glanced at the clock above the bar. He had twenty minutes before he needed to begin the drive home. Anything could be waiting for him when he opened the door.

“I’ve got a confession to make,” Gary said.

“Yeah?”

“I rang that estate agent pretending to be a police officer.”

“Are you serious?”

“Yeah. After you told me what she said – Rachel – I knew I had to help. We need to know who lived in that house before. Maybe they’ll recognise Natalie’s…”

“Girlfriend. It’s all right. You can say it.”

Gary went on. “I rang them up and said I was looking into some burglaries from around that time. It was all crap, obviously. But she didn’t know any better. I’ve got the address and phone number of the previous tenant. Her name is Tess Foster. Luckily she’s still with the same estate agent, so Rachel was able to give it to me.”

“You could get in trouble for that,” Scott said. “I don’t want to ruin your life as well.”

Gary shook his head. “After everything you’ve done for me, you think I’m going to make you go through this alone?”

“Mate–”

“I’d be dead if it wasn’t for you. Do you want the details or not?”

Scott thought of the blood and the screaming and all that youthful fire in his chest, and, like the fool he was, he’d truly believed it would never stop burning. He was only thirty-six, but sometimes he felt ancient.

“Of course I bloody do.”

Gary reached into his jacket pocket and brought out a piece of paper, sliding it across the table.

This Tess Foster had a life of her own, friends and family; she didn’t want to be involved in Scott’s hell.

But he couldn’t ignore this chance. Maybe she’d be able to tell him if Casey had been the other woman. That, at least, would make sense. It would give Casey a motive to do this. People had whispered after Natalie’s death. Nobody had outright accused him of murder, but when a wife killed herself, the husband was the most natural candidate to blame.

It would be even easier for Natalie’s girlfriend – always on the sidelines, hating Scott – to come to that conclusion.