‘I think I mentioned it.’ She looked at him defiantly, without apology. ‘I think I might have told Joe.’

He’d seen that look on her face before, in his own kitchen. A look of remorseless betrayal. He should have dealt with it then. He hit her hard, his fist meeting her face. Harder than he’d hit anyone in his life. Her head flew back and she hit the wall with a thud.

‘Get up,’ he said. He stood over her as she slumped to the floor. ‘I said, get up.’

She moaned, something low and angry. Still she did not sound sorry. She opened her eyes.

‘Get up, Mandy.’

She got to her knees. Blood ran from her nose. ‘You know what, Steve?’ She stood and pushed her hair from her face. ‘You were right. You’re not the good guy.’

He hit her again with all his strength and she landed hard, cracking her head against the beam. She tried to stand. For a second she stared at him, furious and unrepentant. Then she lost her footing, staggered sideways and fell to the ground. He stood over her.

‘You have no right speaking to me that way!’ He roared into her face and all his rage rose up, years of it, flooding his head, his body. ‘What makes you think you can speak to me like that?’

She let out a moan.

‘Are you listening to me, Amanda?’ He kicked at her chest, because she always did this. She left him alone when he wanted to talk to her, when he needed her to listen. He never could get through to her. ‘Will you listen to me, for God’s sake?’

She did not respond. He kicked her harder, again and again. He wasn’t going to let this drop, not this time. He wanted to fight with her, to finish what they’d started.

‘Mandy?’ She was silent and still. He straightened up and caught his breath. The cabin was very quiet. He did not want quiet. He looked down her and bellowed loud enough to kill the moment, to stop this from being the end.

‘Mandy?’

He knelt beside her, pushed her hair away from her face. The anger dropped clean out of him, leaving fear in its place, cold and sickening. Her eyes were half open, her lips parted. He held his ear close to her mouth. She might be unconscious, he thought. She might be breathing still.

‘Mand?’ He spoke softly, gave her a gentle shake. Blood ran from her ear, down her neck.

Steve stood, turned away from her, walked the length of the cabin and back. He didn’t want to look at her, lying there with her head slumped forward, her body twisted. He was cold, sweating. He faced the wall and shouted aloud that she shouldn’t have looked at him like that. She should have shown some respect. She had pushed him too far; she had taunted him.

But the rage had gone. He could no longer recall what she’d said.