What am I going to do? Is Toby right? Should we keep this a secret? I deserve to go to jail for what I did, but why should Toby and his family also be punished simply for looking out for me? And what would knowledge of my crime do to the children?

A knock on the shower door makes me jump. I turn to see Toby standing there in his boxers, his face and body blurred behind the steamed-up glass.

‘Zoe, you okay?’ His voice is muffled.

‘I’ll be out in a minute.’ My voice wobbles.

‘Can I jump in with you?’

‘Hang on, I won’t be long.’ I turn away from him and hope he understands that I want to be alone. Just a few moments more to try to compose myself. A few moments more until I have to go out and face reality, more questions and answers that I’d rather not deal with. But as I stand here quivering, with hot water streaming down my body, I’m overtaken by a rush of shame. I’m behaving like a child. This was something I caused. It was me. My sister. My family who dragged Toby and Nick into this. I need to step up and take some responsibility. I can’t blame Toby for simply telling me the truth. Even though he should have told me ten years ago. I can’t hide from what I’ve done.

I’ll give myself one more minute in here, and then I’ll dry off, get dressed and face whatever today holds. I can’t believe that I’ve spent the last decade thinking Dina didn’t want anything to do with me. That she’d cut herself off from her family, when in reality she was gone. I choke out an unexpected, violent sob. Tears mingle with shower water and my shoulders shudder. But I have to stay in control of my emotions – at least for now. There are too many other people to consider in all this for me to fall apart.

Before I can change my mind, I turn the shower dial to cold. The effect is almost instantaneous. Freezing jets shock me out of my crying jag. Gasping, I turn them off and stand dripping and shivering, but more awake and clearer-headed than seconds earlier.

I push away the image of Dina’s blank-eyed stare, step out of the cubicle, grab a thick grey bath towel from the radiator and wrap it around my goose-fleshed body. The towel is blissfully warm. I take another for my hair. My mouth is dry and sour. There’s a complimentary toiletry kit by the sink. I tear open the wrapper and fish out a bamboo toothbrush and mini-toothpaste tube. I brush my teeth badly and quickly; thankful the mirror is too steamed up to show my reflection again. Steeling myself with a deep breath and a squaring of my shoulders, I leave the bathroom.