They were staring at me in the mirror as if I’d been at the very least unreasonable, and Roy took a firmer grip on her hand. I had one last dogged point to raise. “You said there were no homeless at Monks Cross when Thelma was there. How could you know that?”

“Do you really think they were there back then, Patrick?”

“Not those in particular. I’m saying—”

“Any, dad,” Roy said, using Bella’s hand to point at me. “They didn’t live under motorways then.”

I had no idea whether this was true, but if he believed it, mightn’t Bella? I’d run out of questions and of conversation, or rather any that felt advisable to risk. Seeing my doubts had antagonised Roy, I let a concert on the radio take the place of dialogue. We were leaving the motorway when Bella said “Could you drop me by the house, Patrick?”

“I’ll drive you to your front door by all means.”

“Honestly, no need. Just take me where you did last time.”

I stopped opposite the gap in the wall undermined by trees, and Bella squeezed Roy’s hand before retrieving her bag. “Are we waiting again,” I said, “or are you inviting us in?”

“Neither, Patrick. I’ll come to yours tomorrow, Roy. Now I’ll leave you in case you need to talk.”

We palpably did, but when I made to begin Roy gave me a shake of the head, so violent it resembled a shiver. I was parking outside Julia’s when he spoke. “I don’t know what you’re trying to do to Bell and me,” he said, “but you can stay away from her till you’ve given up.” He let himself into the house without looking back, and I remembered Bella’s triumphant expression last time the door had shut. I had the idea, surely close to deranged, that she’d planted doubts in my mind today so that I’d sound irrational when I voiced them. That would mean she’d known I was eavesdropping, which left me feeling as foolish as my son must believe I was. As I drove away I was struggling to think what else to do – how much further I might have to go to learn the truth.

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty

The Contents of the Bed

“Archives.”

I was sure Julia would have gone home by now, and this wasn’t her voice. “I’m hoping you can help me,” I said.

“If we can we will.”

“I had a book out from you the other day. I read it there, I mean.”

“I see.”

I was glad she couldn’t, not least my grimace at the difficulties I might be destined to encounter. “I’m afraid I’ve forgotten the title,” I said.

“What can you tell me about it?”

“I believe it’s in your witchcraft archive.”