‘Tuesday was when he got sick,’ he said.

‘Was it?’

‘Same day the police turned up.’

She sniffed and wiped her face with her sleeve. ‘What?’

‘You heard me.’ He let the curtain drop.

She sniffed again, and her voice was high. ‘When did it happen? When did he—?’

‘He was breathing fine when I went to bed last night.’ He didn’t look at her. ‘I always check him when I go to bed.’

‘I know you do.’

He forced the words out. ‘He must have died in the night. In the early hours.’

She got herself to her feet and laid the boy down on the bed. ‘I wanted to hold him again. I wanted to ask you to forgive me and let me stay.’

He shook his head at her. ‘Cover him up.’

She hesitated, brought her hands to her face. Then she pulled the sheet over William, smoothed it down, stroking the small mound of his head. ‘What have we done?’ She turned to face him. ‘Steve, what have we done? We were meant to give him a good life.’

‘Don’t!’ He shouted it. ‘Don’t say that! He’d be alive if it weren’t for you.’

She wiped her face. ‘What did you say?’

‘I said, he’d be alive if it weren’t for you. If you hadn’t gone to the police, I’d have been able to get him to a doctor.’

Sea spray hit the window behind him. He stepped closer to her.

‘Steve. I didn’t go to the police.’

‘Don’t lie to me.’

‘I’m not lying!’

He hated the sight of her, wide-eyed and mocking, like he was a fool. ‘A copper turned up here.’ He gestured to the door. ‘He wanted to take him there and then. He told me –’ he saw her flinch as his voice rose, ‘– they got a call from Sydney. Someone called from Sydney and let the police down here know exactly where we were.’

‘It wasn’t me.’

‘Nobody else knew we were here, Mandy. It’s not like this is the first place you’d look, is it?’

Her eyes changed. ‘Oh Jesus,’ she said.

‘What is it?’

She looked at her feet. ‘Oh God.’

‘What?’

She turned from him and sat down beside William’s body.

‘Did you tell the police, Amanda?’

‘No. But I might have told—’

‘Who?’

‘Nobody.’ She covered her face with her hands. ‘Nobody. I got confused.’

He stood behind her. She was lying again. He reached out and grabbed a fistful of her hair, jerked her head back so he could see her face. ‘Who did you tell?’

‘You’re hurting me.’ She tried to twist out of his grip. ‘Let go of me, Steve. What are you doing?’

‘Answer my question.’

She stood up and faced him, gripping his wrist where he had a hold of her hair. ‘I’ll answer your question when you let go of me,’ she said, through her teeth. ‘And not before.’

He gave her hair another tug before he let go. Rage surged in him. He stepped closer to her and she backed away. Every fibre of him was ready to blow if she said that name.