Toby doesn’t stir as I extricate myself from his embrace. I sit up, trying to get my breathing under control. What’s going to happen now? I really want to get out of this hotel and go home. But the children are back at the house with Celia’s sister Vivian. And anyway, how will I be able to face my beautiful Alice and Jamie knowing that I’m a murderer? That I killed my sister. How will I be able to face anyone? I still can’t believe I did it. Why didn’t I pull Dina away from Toby, rather than smashing a vase over her head? But she had a knife, maybe she would have used it on me. If only I could remember more than just Dina shouting at Toby. I concentrate on trying to recall anything else from that blank spot, but all I get for my trouble are shooting pains across my temple.

Toby is still sound asleep next to me. I’m glad. I could do with a few moments to myself to try to make sense of everything. I can’t deal with him waking up yet. I don’t want to talk to anyone. As I ease myself up, he stirs and mumbles. I freeze. But then he turns over and I’m able to make my escape, tiptoeing into the bathroom wearing just my underwear.

I catch sight of my reflection in the mirror. Last night’s make-up is patchy and streaked, highlighting the dark circles beneath my eyes. My hair is plastered against one side of my head and my fake eyelashes are squashed and misshapen. I peel them off and drop them on the side of the sink, then I step out of my underwear and into the large shower cubicle.

As the hot-water jets batter my body, I wish I could switch off my thoughts, but it’s impossible. Toby’s story comes back to me in pieces, and with each fragment, it feels as if I’m being re-made into a different person. A person I don’t recognise.

An image jumps into my brain. Of me crouched on the floor, staring down at Dina’s crumpled form. I turn her face towards mine and recoil when I see that her eyes are blank, staring at nothing. With a pull on my gut, I remember the shock. The horror. And, even more shocking and unexpected, the feeling of rage I felt towards her. Another memory.

As the water rushes over my skin, my whole body begins to shake uncontrollably. My poor, poor sister. I know she was a troubled soul, but she didn’t deserve this. She didn’t deserve to die. I realise Toby was telling the truth. I hadn’t quite wanted to believe that my sister was dead. But there’s no disputing the sharpness of that flashback. I’m still shaking, my hands trembling and my knees soft as sponges.