‘Plenty. Trust me.’ The quick look between the two of them startled me: a matched look like understanding, a wry edge of smile on Conway. Like we’re actual people. ‘But I always had a reason. A shite one, but it was there.’

Julia said, ‘It seemed like a good idea at the time. What can I say: I was dumber then.’

I said, ‘You were keeping him away from Selena. You knew he was trouble – you knew what he’d done to Joanne, knew Selena wasn’t strong enough to handle the same thing happening to her. Selena had broken it off with him, but you read her texts; you knew all Chris had to do was snap his fingers and she’d come running. So you had to make sure he didn’t snap them.’

‘You’re tougher than Selena,’ Conway said. ‘Tough enough to take whatever a fool like Chris could dish out. So you took the bullet for her.’

Julia walked, hands in her pockets. Watched something off in the trees ahead. The slice of her face I could see reminded me of Holly. That grief.

Conway said, ‘You think Selena killed Chris. Don’t you?’

Julia’s head snapped sideways like Conway had flicked her in the face. I hadn’t realised till I heard the words fall into the air. This was what Julia had been thinking, all day; all year.

And that was her out. Julia out, Selena out, Rebecca in. Holly flickering on the line.

Conway said, ‘We say we’re going to talk to Selena: bang, you throw us a stick to chase, send us dashing off after Joanne. I say maybe Selena had got back with Chris: bang, all of a sudden you’re talking to us, coming clean about meeting him. You wouldn’t need to protect her unless you thought she had something to hide.’

We were speeding up. Julia was walking faster, smashing twigs and rattling pebbles, not caring.

I said, ‘You think Selena found out you were hooking up with Chris. Is that it? She was so angry, or so jealous, or so gutted, she lost the head and killed him. That makes it your fault. So it’s up to you to protect her.’

Only a pace or two ahead of us, she was already smudging away into the dark, just the red slash of her jumper glowing. ‘Julia,’ Conway said, and stopped walking.

Julia stopped too, but the line of her back pulled like a leashed dog’s. Conway said, ‘Sit down.’

In the end Julia turned. A pretty little wrought-iron bench, overlooking tidy flowerbeds – closed up for the night, now, all the daytime colours and petal-flourishes turned in tight on themselves. Julia aimed for the end of the bench. Conway and I boxed her into the middle.

Conway said, ‘Listen to me. We don’t suspect Selena.’

Julia rolled her a look. ‘Uh-huh. I’m so reassured, I might need to fan myself.’