‘I promised Martin I wouldn’t let you in, but you and Joanne have been good to us. You deserve an explanation.’ Susan’s face relayed her anxiety as she began to wring her hands. ‘It’s an affliction, that’s what it is. You need help. You’re not well.’

But so-called afflictions came in many forms, and Lloyd needed to know more. The room darkened around them as the fire dimmed in the hearth.

‘Spit it out, Susan.’ His voice was a low growl. ‘If you’re going to accuse me of something, then at least tell me what it is.’ He switched on the lamp in the corner of the room. He wanted to decipher her expression. Every line, every wrinkle of concern.

Susan’s mouth was small and tight. Her chin dipped as she stared at the floor. ‘I wasn’t to know . . . not with my brain injury. But Martin says . . .’

‘Martin.’ Lloyd exhaled. ‘Of course.’

‘Martin says you have a problem. That when you’re sober you can control it, but when you’re drinking . . .’

‘I’m not an alcoholic,’ Lloyd said. ‘Martin’s a liar.’

‘If only that’s all it was.’ Susan’s voice grew quiet, the flame of her annoyance dampened for now. She blew out an exasperated breath. ‘You won’t want to hear this. Can’t you just leave and not come back?’

Lloyd fixed her with a glare. ‘Not until you tell me what he’s said.’

‘Not if you’re going to get angry.’ Her eyes met his as he towered over her.

Instinctively, Lloyd’s hand fell towards his hip flask. Not now, he told himself. He needed to get a grip.

‘I’d never hurt you,’ he said evenly. ‘What did he say?’

Susan stood behind the sofa, placing a barrier between them. ‘That you have a fascination with young girls,’ she blurted. ‘That you can’t help yourself. You always have. He said I shouldn’t let you in.’

‘What the fuck?’ Lloyd roared, his face twisted in disgust. ‘Where is he? I’ll kill him!’

‘Shh, keep your voice down, Grace will hear you!’

Lloyd took a deep breath in an effort to steady his nerves. This wasn’t Susan’s fault. But fury ran through the blood in his veins, every inch of him shaking with an anger he fought to control. He clenched and unclenched his fists before finally giving in to the call of his hip flask. Taking a deep glug, he was disgusted to see the look of uncertainty on Susan’s face.

‘Tell me you don’t believe it,’ he said. ‘You know he’s lying, don’t you? He’s scared I’ll take you and Grace away.’

‘I don’t know anything.’ Susan’s eyes were bright with tears. ‘All I know is how I feel. That you’re my friend. Maybe my only real friend, and I don’t want to let you go.’