Then there were the threats. Norah hadn’t even thought of them as threats until one day, when Katharina happened to see one of her texts from Valerie. Tell me, she’d asked casually, does Valerie often threaten you? Norah was thrown into confusion. For her, that was just the way Valerie was. A bit of a drama queen, that was all. Valerie was never thirsty; she was always dehydrated. Valerie was never bored; she was always dying of boredom.

If I fail maths, I’ll throw myself in front of a train.

If my parents split up, I’ll jump off the dam.

How was Norah to know that she really meant it this time?

Norah hunched her shoulders and thrust her hands deep into her coat pockets, but she shivered all the same. She strode out, walking fast to warm up. It had taken her four hours to drive here. Strange, she thought, that something she’d been putting off for twenty years should suddenly be so urgent. Now that she’d made up her mind to do it, she felt compelled to get it over with as quickly as possible.

She had called in sick. Her friends would have to wait till she was back in Vienna; she’d tell them everything then. She’d had a quick word with Sandra, promising to go and see her soon, and she had taken Sandra’s advice and spoken to the police and to a lawyer she’d recommended. Then she had rung Max and asked him and Paul for dinner at the weekend.

About twenty minutes later, Norah had reached her destination. Valerie’s parents’ house was just the way she remembered it: a pretty terraced house with a well-kept front garden. Of course, there was no longer a family of four living here with their dog; Monika was on her own now. But it didn’t feel any different. Norah had at the very least expected it to seem smaller, like most childhood places she revisited. But only the smell had changed. The smell of cooking that used to fill the house was gone, replaced by a hint of parquet cleaner.

Norah sat on the pink sofa opposite Monika. Since Norah had last seen her, Monika had lost a lot of weight, but not in a bad way. She looked radiant and fit—a woman who had reinvented herself.

‘You look stunning,’ Norah said awkwardly, taking a sip of her milky coffee.

It was true, but she’d been expecting the soft, motherly woman of her memories. She still had to get used to this new Monika.

The new Monika smiled and Norah knew that any second now she would ask her how she was, what had brought her to the area and so on. She knew, too, that she’d probably reply evasively to avoid having to broach the subject she had come here to broach—and end up leaving for home without having achieved anything.

‘There’s something I have to tell you,’ Norah said, before she could change her mind.

‘Oh?’ Monika said, sipping her tea.