‘I can assure you I wasn’t going to say that,’ he said. ‘Heather, can you tell me what you . . .’ He paused, shook his head. ‘Can you tell me what you think happened back there?’

‘You were there!’

‘Humour me,’ he said.

‘Fine.’ She glanced at him warily. ‘I told you I was having a drink and you pushed me up against the fridge and strangled me. When I told you I was pregnant you let me go, and I fell into a pile of broken glass.’

Stephen was quiet for several seconds. ‘That’s what you think happened?’

‘No,’ she said. ‘That’s what happened.’

He didn’t respond.

‘What’s your story then?’ she asked, as they pulled into the hospital car park.

‘My story?’ He laughed, but there was no humour in it. ‘I was trying to talk to you. I tried to take the wine bottle from you and you screamed at me. You dropped the bottle and it broke. Then you slipped in the wine on the floor. I grabbed your arm to try to stop you but you landed in the glass.’

She shook her head. ‘That’s not right. You strangled me.’ She lifted her hands to her throat where his hands had been. ‘You had your hands around my neck and I . . . I . . .’

Stephen pulled up the handbrake. ‘If I had my hands around your neck, Heather, where are the marks?’

Heather pulled the rear-view mirror towards herself and peered at her reflection.

She couldn’t see any marks, but it was dark in the car. She twisted her head back and forth.

‘I’m worried about you, Heather,’ he said. ‘I think you might need to speak to someone.’

Heather continued to stare at her neck in the mirror, suddenly less sure of herself. That, she realised, was why she didn’t want to tell him she was pregnant. Stephen was so clever at getting her all turned around. At least with her father she knew for sure she was dealing with a monster.

‘Let’s just get these stitches,’ she said, and she got out of the car and slammed the door.

47

TULLY

‘Why wasn’t he wearing a nappy?!’ Sonny cried, when he found Tully on her hands and knees, scrubbing the rug. ‘It’s going to need to be professionally cleaned now. This is going to cost a fortune.’

‘Maybe not,’ Tully said, sitting back to survey the damage. ‘I think I’ve got most of –’

‘God, Tully. It’s just one bloody thing after another with you!’

‘It’s not like I took a dump on the rug!’

‘You were in charge of him!’

‘How was I supposed to know he was going to crap on the rug?’

After she’d recovered from the initial trauma, Tully had tried to find out the answer to that question herself. She hadn’t yelled or even voiced frustration; she’d merely squatted down to Miles’s level and said, ‘What happened, buddy?’

‘I not know,’ he said.