“Can you take us through what you remember after the wedding? The night your sister died?” Detective Levinson asks. There’s sympathy on his face, caution too. He’s gained an impression of me from whatever Dad and Max and Rebecca Martin have told him, from his memory of me at the hospital, coming to him raving about Bella’s shoes. One I’m not going to be able to undo.

“It was the night of the wedding. I’d gone upstairs—I had a bit too much champagne and…I don’t know if I fell asleep or not, but it was late and everything was quiet downstairs but Bella’s bed was empty. She was…she had insomnia sometimes. There were weeks where she couldn’t sleep.” My face is hot. I clutch my cold cup of tea so they won’t see my hands shaking. “On warm nights, when she couldn’t sleep, she would sometimes go into the woods.”

“Alone?” This is from the younger officer. I don’t like what I hear in his voice. I remember the questions after Bella died, about her drinking, about drugs and boyfriends. They tried to paint such an ugly picture of her and it wasn’t true.

“Yes, alone,” I say. “She didn’t go calling for her friends in the middle of the night.”

“But you went into the woods with her that night.”

“I saw her empty bed. I went down and saw her leave the house. I knew where she’d be heading.”

That’s not entirely true. I was worried she was going back to Dean House. That was why I followed her.

“And then?”

“I remember going into the woods. It was hot, we were in the middle of a heatwave, and I remember the relief of going into the trees. It was so much cooler; that’s why Bella went there. I told you all this back then.”

“Please—tell us again.”

“I got spooked. I heard a noise, a twig breaking or something behind me. I called for Bella but she didn’t answer. I got scared, I started running and…I don’t know. I must have hit something, or fallen. I don’t remember anything else.”

Detective Levinson leans forward. “Can you remember where you entered the woods?”

“From the lane.”

“You were both found a long way from your house. Not far behind Dean House. It’s at least two miles from here.”

“I know, but I don’t remember going there. I don’t remember anything after those first few minutes of entering the woods.”

He leans back. “How well did you know Mr. Lewis?”

I freeze. “You’ve asked me all this. I told you before—I barely knew him.” I glance at Dad. “I used to…help him out in the garden a bit when I was younger, that’s all.”

I can see Dad’s startled look.

“And your sister? Did she know him?”